Dear Donald Trump
You don’t know me but I sadly know you
Your face has been plastered on tv screens and newspapers for so long
And your words have cut into my soul like a knife
Twisting each time you spew your venom
Never in my life have I been more scared of a man until now
I am now forced to be more aware of my surroundings because your supporters are hidden in crowds waiting…
Despite all your crushing charades
I have never been more proud to be the minority
Because for the first time I see my communities standing together
Seeing my family work hour on hour only proves you’re a fraud
Cause unlike you I spit the truth not lies
I preserve differences you block them
I strive to build peace between nations while you rather build a wall to separate it
News flash, us Hispanics don’t want to be in any country you’re running
We aren’t these lazy or uneducated ganstas you make us out to be
Us Hispanics are your backbone
Were the ones building the skyscrapers you got with your “small loan”
We’re the ones that make you look good to your “followers” because we’re your foundation
I mean let’s be honest
Without us you’d be nothing
The only reason you’d be recognized is because you bought a role on home alone 2
And by some weird chance of faith you’ve managed to stay in this twisted race
You’ve managed to scare us straight
And with some hesitation I say you’ve actually helped us
We are now united and stronger than ever
Because you’ve open our eyes to the fact that we must fight
So as I close my letter want to thank you
Because of you my family has finally registered to vote
Because of you our determination grows stronger
So excuse me if my poem causes you frustration
But I thought you deserved some type of credit

Dear white boys in my class
I hear your whisper
I see your fingers pointing
I see the way your thin lips curl into a smile when I mess up

Dear white boys in my white class
When I raise my hand it’s because I have an answer
Don’t mistake it for a request to be your servant

Dear white boys in my class
You think you’re smart huh?
You think you’re the bravest?
You think you have the most history?
I’d hate to burst your small white bubble but it’s about time you got a true history lesson

Dear white boy in my class
You say my hair blocks knowledge to my brain
Well remember when you got a 13 on the ACT
Yeah who got the 32….oh right not you

Dear white boys in my class
You say because you took your friend back to the “hood” you’re brave
That you were the minority so you know what it feels like to be me
Well dear white boys in my class
You don’t know anything!
You live in a world where you make pit stops when you wanna feel “ethnic”

Newsflash this isn’t ethnic this is my life
One I wish to get away from
Because my world is full of gun shots and drunk family members
Of young black boys pictures hung up in church
But you say my struggles don’t count
That because it’s normal it’s not brave
And you’re right

Dear white boys in my class
The bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life is what you call a right
The right to an education
To wake up and go to school where everyone is against me
Because my voice is different
Because my skin is deeper
Because I’m too loud

Dear white boys in my class
You think you’re history is the richest huh?
You only think that because it’s all they teach
Let’s go back to when you were the refugees
And my grandmother’s tribe was nice enough to take you in
Your payment: ******

Dear white boys in my class
It has been engraved in your mind
That since all the books in school look like you they must be right
Must be holy
Must be the standard
Well dear white boys in my class
You say you’re the standard
Yet my scores matter more on standardized tests

Dear white boys in my class
It must **** to have the one thing you’re “good” at to be taken by the black kids
***** to have all you ever worked for dragged away
I would know
It’s my life
First line in my autobiography is
“I worked hard to show I could do it, but forced to write another name on it”

Dear white boys in my class
Why do you assume that the only way to end your problem is to **** us?
Dear white boys in my class
My name is not Keisha
My name is not Jaden
My name is Trayvon Martin
My name is Michael Brown
My name is officer I can’t breathe
My name is silence

Dear white boys in my class
On graduation day
When we stand next to each other
I want you feel my presence
I want you to see my glow
See the pride I bare on my face
And stand behind the one you tried, but couldn’t hold back

I see you from across the room
Our eyes meet and lock into one another
For a moment the world fades away
And it’s just us
Our song playing in the background
Our bodies are on autopilot
As we walk towards each other
Your hands reaching for mine
And when our fingers intertwine
Sparks fly like the fourth of july
Like when you said you missed my glowing eyes
In this moment
You step closer and closer
Until you ask me the first promise you made me
“May I have this dance?”
Our bodies come close
And our hands come together
No one else is here but you and me
And every memory
Every laugh
Every hug
Every secret glance
Every argument
Every lie
And my heart break
Come back
Our eyes lose each other
And I’m back in reality
It seems like deja vu
Because you walk up to me
And ask the first thing you promised me
“May I have this dance?”
Except there are no fireworks
There is no joy
Just me and everyone around us
Waiting for me to respond
Because they know the lies you told
Everyone does except you
You told them to me so many times you thought they were the truth
As you wait for an answer
I am busy looking at my last mistake
That stands a foot above me
And dangles sweet nothings
Hoping to gain my attention
And in that moment I realize
You are nothing
All you are is a sack of bones and lie
A player that lead me to believe in love again
Made me believe that men had something of substance to offer
That told me I had a partner to look up at the stars with
And my mind is begging me to say no
Because it has already heard your sweet nothings
But my sweet tooth holds too much power
And forces my mouth to say the word you have been waiting for
Yes

It is sweet like the middle of May
Moldable like Taino clay
Its juices stick to my skin because it knows about sweet tooths
The cravings crash into my body like waves do the sandy shores that harbor its trees
Shake shake shake
Till 10 fall from the tall tree
I try to grab them all but people weren’t meant to hold that much greatness
My small hands grab the biggest and the smallest
Peeling off its green and orange skin
Letting the sweet juices create art on my body
My teeth sink into sweet orange flesh
Reminding my body that this taste goes back for generations
Who knew fruit could time travel

Please for the love of God help my people.

3.5 million U.S. citizens live on the island and are in need of help.

America you claim you want to help your people well let’s start with people who truly need it.

America your necessities are their luxuries.

Puerto Rico was not yours to begin with

But now that you’ve claimed us at least take care of us

We don’t ask for much

We are only asking for the ability to breathe and read books

I didn’t know that was such a high demand

My people are suffering

With no water to drink or bathe

We are left with the stench of hopelessness

Because America, you are more concerned with toupees

Than your own people

Yes, I did not stutter

Your people, Puerto Ricans

No not the immigrants because we are not immigrants

Our passports are twins not fraternal

Why do you like us when we hit a baseball or sing some tune on American Idol

We are doctors

We are cashiers

We are students trying to better our lives

We are a people begging for help

Do not look at us and turn away

My island was once a beautiful place where birds sang in harmony

And the coquis call smoothed the worst of souls

We don't know this island anymore because our island is America’s landfill

A place where the government tested nuclear bombs without thinking of its own people

The people are living on faint hope backed the knowledge that tomorrow probably won't be better

Why do you, America, want us like this

America you ask me why do I care so much about an island I haven't been to

I care because my roots flow back to the land 100 miles across the sea

One that I have the ability to call home from my rented home here

America, you created this land so people of all nations and backgrounds could have a chance at a better life

My people are still waiting for this promise to be fulfilled

America we beg you, help us

My people are suffering

We are tired of being the last pick for the team we didn’t even want to join

We are tired of the rottened mold you have put us in

So let this be a warning that your mold is finally falling apart because of your greed

Do not blame us for this

You are the hand clamped onto ours and forced us to cover our mouths

America, Puerto Ricans are ready to talk so we can live in harmony

All you have to do is take our hand off our mouths

My heart breaks every spring break
It breaks for kids like me who watch as others visit their home countries
While we cannot leave the USA
We have to sit and watch people butcher bachata
Watch how they're hips refuse to accept something other than Taylor swift
We listen when they come back with stories of how they thought our food was too different and not “Mexican” enough as if all Latin America is Mexico
We hear the laughs they make at our cousins back home for just being themselves
My heart cannot handle the privilege they wear on their sleeves when they come back
Knowing I might never see my own island
How I am thought it is ***** and dangerous
A place where girls should not be left alone
While they get the clean streets, they get to avoid the gangs
How they assault our girls
Don't tell me to just save my money and go next year
It is not that simple
We don't stay in your resorts
We live en el capital y los campos nunca los hoteles y la vida blanco
Aka the places you never set foot
You go to my island
You buy bracelets de mi bandera
You try to live my roots
But complain when I dare show pride for my people
The hypocrisy breaks my heart
It's blood pours onto my all American soil
Is my island nice?
Tell me do the trees sway as if they are dancing to Anthony Santos?
Do the branches act as the leading man guiding the leaves to swing their stems to beat?
Does the Dominican anthem ring in the hearts of the people
A pride that is new and vibrant radiating off their faces
How they have clear all their schedules to make sure you see the highlights of our land
When you eat do you feel as though each bite was made with the love of thousand of abuelas?
Can you envision the hours she spends over a hot gas stove stirring los habichuelas y arroz
Using what little food they have left over to feed you over their own blood?
Tell me does my island make you proud?
It makes my heart filled with joy
To know my people did something right that you would walk the same land as slaves
That somehow we got enough pride to make sure you had a good time that you were safe that you can have whatever you wanted
On my island
Tell me, what left is there to complain about?
Mi isla es mi corazón, mi sueño, es mi vida
Pero to you it is just another week out the calendar
My heart will break every march
Because when you come back you complain how in the Dominican Republic no one spoke to you in English
And I worry, how you think when Dominicans come here we should speak English
But when you come to our home you don't want us to speak our language
Your hypocrisy hurts
My island does all it can to make you happy
But you are never pleased
What more can we do
You take pieces of us and use them in your portrait of appropriation
You take our pride and use it as joke
My heart breaks
For the children like me
Never seeing their land
Except on Instagram in the middle of march

Our love was like Snapchat
Good in the moment
Gone after ten seconds

I don’t trust most teachers
Not because they give us homework or test
But because they claim to be our guide
To help us in school and life
They practically beg us to come to them
But when someone finally gets the courage to ask for help
Teachers laugh them off
Or say they’re too busy

They preach lies and expect us to accept it
They are so filled with self-pride
That they can’t see the pain they bring to others
Too many kids have left classes crying
Feeling as though they aren’t worth anything
Because when they turn stuff in
The teacher looks at it
And hands it back with a smile and says
It’s not worth a grade

Teachers are meant to be examples
But I can’t trust a single word that comes out their mouths
You don’t wanna be here
I don’t wanna be here
So why make us both suffer

Teachers deceive students into thinking they care
They’ll stay after school to “help you”
But once the going actually gets tough they bounce
Why would us students ever trust a liar like that?
I’m still waiting for all their pants to catch on fire

Don’t tell me I’m too young to be upset
How would you feel if all you’ve known for 12 years was a lie?
My words and feelings are important
But teachers have trained us to believe other wise
I don’t understand why you want us to be this way
Maybe because it’s too much fun to see our smiles fall to the ground
Rather than raising them up to the sun
I’m not asking for the moon and the stars
Just peace and a smile

Too many days I want to cry
When the bell rings before that one class
Because that class doesn’t have a lesson plan
It has a plan for destruction
Counting the smiles that walk in
And the tears that storm out

Now don’t get it twisted
There are some good teachers out there
Maybe one or two
But you and I both know the bad outweighs the good
Sometimes the darkest hole of despair is more comfortable
Than these beige brick walls
I rather be alone
Then be surrounded by enemies I am not allowed to fight back

So if you ask me why I don’t trust these teachers
It’s because my momma always told me
Never believe anyone that smiles in your face
And tells you a bold face lie

The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of  tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”