I couldn’t wait for my class to end so I could run outside and find
el carrito (Stand)
I fell in love with the feeling and the taste before I even knew what love was.
I stood outside holding my mother’s hand waiting for her to ask
the times she did not ask I would pull on her plaid, decently long skirt and looked over towards the man selling raspados

She knew what I wanted and she knew how much I wanted it.
I focused on ...
el carrito
as if looking at it would be enough to call the gods of raspados to have mercy over me

They cost $1.50. My mother gives me the money
I run over
The man says

te faltan, no es suficiente (not enough)

I was devastated, I began to take step back slowly, I dared to not look at my mother with this disappointment.
I barely noticed the lady standing behind the man, she was the boss

I noticed she was looking towards my mother
Maybe she saw in my mother’s face something convincing, or maybe my confusion triggered a mother instinct
Whatever it was, it was enough

As I walked away slowly with my first heart break,
the lady behind says,

tiene antojo, tu daselo (She has a craving, give it to her)

I thanked her with my smile and with a slight flitter in my heart of happiness and even more with my taste buds having a celebration just by looking at how this raspado was being made

The beautiful sound of the mountain man, holding a metal, rectangular shaver of ice
containing it all inside until it was ready to be placed in the cup. The small stones pile one by one when crushed
Just big enough to hold shape and small enough to enjoy

Then the miel con sabor a tamarindo  being delicately set on top, like a creamy blanket in liquid form

Si, con limon y sal, porfavor, y poquito chile (add salt and lemon, and a bit of spice... Please)
because my mom taught me how to be polite
and then, to my surprise the actual fruit
tamarindo on top, a light brown coloring with a soft cover on the hardened seed inside

It decorated with grace and delight, the treat awaiting for me
I felt the richness


There I learned my first lesson of kindness

the smell of fresh beans
fills by dreams
beckons me forth to my culture, to my people
acceptance is key, but I'm rejected by the world
simply because I don't fit the stereotype
rejected by my people because I don't speak their language

engraved in my heart are the traditions and beliefs of my people
but my body betrays me
I am Mexican
I am American
but the world makes me choose one
because I don't look the way I'm supposed to

It is known through the eyes.
Not from voice
designated instrument of the thymus
but the eyes.
Portals of silent universes.
The expression of the gaze
sometimes sings and dances.
Distracting eyes
couriers and trunks
sometimes they blink but aren't liars.
It could be the same wicked look
kinda lost,
kinda absorbed,
but never turbid.

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MORE THE STORY CAN BE TOLD
ALL THE POEMS WILL REVEAL
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when i become weary
when the storm and the tide
takes me underneath
i return to the surface
with a fresh breath of air

my only escape
has always been my memories
my memories of a lush life
of the snow falling on mountains
sliding down hills with my brother
driving along all the coasts
pacific
atlantic
the gulf of mexico
the beautiful hues of green
dancing across the car window
the sparkling dotted stars
across my the trunk of my father's car
the sandy, cobblestone steps
of all the mexican pyramids
the delicately leathered and gentle
caresses from my grandparents' hands
passing down from generation to generation
their stories and strength

the small moments
give me strength
i will be whole
once again

one time a boy told me he liked my straight hair better
i told him but that's not my natural hair
i felt insulted

and he said "what are you talking about?"
"i'm complimenting you"

i brushed it off
put the thought away

but as i stare in my reflection
as i touch the coarse, thick curls
my mother and father bestowed upon on me
passed down from generations
of mexican ancestry

i felt the hurt
i felt the words in my head
"maybe if your hair was straighter
lighter
maybe if your skin was lighter
maybe if your nose was smaller
and pointed"
maybe then i would be the perfect
version of myself

but as i began to notice
flowers sprouting in the women around me
loving, appreciating their thick untamable manes
my mind began to flourish
away from the deception
i had been told my whole life
a bold lie
that changed the perception of myself
that made me scrub my skin in attempt to make it lighter
a lie, so discreet and so subtle
that my self esteem descended to nothing
when looking at the natural reflection of my skin, my hair, my eyes, my hands

as a child
as a teenager
i believed the lie

but as a young woman now
i can tell you
it's deception, oppression
to keep woman of color
at inferiority to the european white

embrace your curls
embrace your melanin
embrace your wide set hips
embrace all the things you were once told to hide

i will be who i was born to be
and i don't need anyone's opinion
on how my hair looks

this is who i am
a mexican daughter
wise enough to recognize
the strength and beauty in our differences