I am from my mother's weary hands and broken back.
From a world where my race is known to pick up the slack.

From the idea that a woman in the kitchen is where she belongs,
from a society in which kids rapidly become moms.

From birth I am predicted to fail
or to be in a house full of children with a marriage in despair.

An unfinished education and low wage job is what's in store for me,
or so say the stereotypes and glances made to spite me.

Despite the currents whose solemn purpose is to drag me down,
I refuse to quit; I refuse to drown.

What if I want to be more than a housewife or the world's youngest mom?
What if I want to live in a big home with a better income?

I don't want to be the one who gets told who she is before she becomes;
I want to leave new legacies for generations to come.