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The Irony in this Nation How a color A sound Can trigger someone’s mind to hate The accusations and discrimination that holds a great sense of problem in this white nation
When I leave my corazón de melón, You're the reason mommy will be alright. Alone you won't be. Close el diablito out of your mind. Your decisions lead to your futrure. Eyes are meant to see the truth
Not Hispanic Not from Spain Not born in Spain We did not go to Spain Spain came to us Introducing us to slavery. We are not Spanish We speak Spanish
Wouldn’t it be amazing if the world had equality? If we all had choices and freedom? Now I know what some of you are going to say Going to preach Going to cry We are equal But I disagree
1992marks the yearmy grandmotherfinallymade it to the United States. 2017marks the year she becamea citizen. somewhere in betweenthose yearsI realizedAmericadoes not look like me.soon after came the realization thatAmerica only lovesa familiar fac
When was the last time a young girl wasn’t dress-coded or sexualized just because it was 85 degrees outside? When was the last time an immigrant earned enough money from one job to support their family?
Oh say can’t you see, The home and land of the free… The free... Each day one more decree, enforced over me.
My people hunted here, Where white people now stand, And where are my brothers, In Oklahoma, where we were pushed away. My friends are hated, For being black, Asian or Hispanic,
Summation of sacrifice. Resilient. Loud. Pero Calladitas. Scrappy. Intelligent. Deep feeling. Strong. We are mijas. We are daughters of immigrants. That is what we are.
All I need is my culture. The blood of the Meshika flows through my veins Know that my ancestors were not the Aztecs, For that name was coined by the European imperialist
Could I fill the swollen suit of a man so large: Quien vivió en las torres de la mente de su pueblo,
“Canciones de un Pájaro sin Pies” En una isla, Un hombre dio a luz tres hermosas aves de su cabeza. Triste y muriendo él les dijo esto: Eres hijos de una madre inmigrante, hijas de agonía.
Now I'm not political. I dont vote. Not even old enough to have taxes to do. But some things have been said that simply aren't true. Now i'm not Mexican. But I am a minority of a minority Black, Hispanic ,Native ,woman and left handed too.
I know America I can speak it But not sing it For I sing unusually In a separate language “Mi vida Americana”
To the love in my life, mi cultura querida: You feel like Latin soul, Baby let that music play,
Everyday is the same as yesterday I fight to be a new me but it always flees The chance to change my families name itches at my mind That new me must come up and rise
Darkened in the sun Like dried up raisins Sun dried our roots Plucking our knowledge of heritage
Welcome to Chicanos- r-us We service all of your needs Will school principals go to isle 12? We still have a few janitors here Desperate for a job Yes, they are Mexican Ready for their graveyard shift
i raise my hand but the bitch doesnt see i have to go to the bathroom but she says others are out but what does that have to do with me? i have a different bladder a different life but what does she know?
Somehow I am strong; They fear my total being. My brown skin makes murmurs In crowds where they can see me.