One day my fairy godmother asked me,

Do you want to be white?
Do you want to have fair skin and thin easily manipulative hair?
Do you want long legs, legs that look good in jean shorts and skirts?
Do you want the boys to call you pretty?
Do you want to fit in?
Do you want to live in a world where your most commonly asked question isn't "what are you"?
Do you want to go to a school where the administration doesn't think of you as a statistic they need to improve?

Of course, I said yes.
"Make me white" I said.

She said too bad.
Too bad, you're gonna be Hispanic.
You're going to have dark skin that makes your pale scars all the more apparent.
You're going to look different each time you walk into a classroom or onto the school bus.
You're going to hang out with your white friends and forgot you don't fit in, at least until you look into a mirror and you remember.

And remembering is going to haunt you.
You're going to avoid cameras and windows.
Avoid anything that reveals your daunting reflection.

You're not going to be white.
Fairy godmothers aren't real.
All you have is an hada madrina, and what can she do in a whitewashed world?