Dear Mixed Kid - Accent Dent
My mother thinks I make fun of her when I repeat the English words that are too uncomfortable to sit pretty on her native Taino tongue. "Furder," she says instead of further, "fuckus," instead of focus, I can only smile reminding myself what authenticity tastes like in the back of my throat.
11:11 as I wrote this. Wish made.
She shows what it is like to make oppressed languages uncomfortable to hear by those who live in the comfort of their own bubbles of simplicity and normalcy.
Dear mixed kid,
no one is allowed to pick and choose their favorite parts of you.
People usually tell me they like my side that holds Salsa and Pasteles dear, or enjoy that Pikliz and Kompa is more prominent on my skin.
Leading to preferring my lovers from other places with accents and the diaspora still burning their skin no matter how javao or noir he is.
i prefer suffering to have blazed into their history so he can comprehend why I recognize myself by the cultures of my chromosomes versus the land I was born to accomodate others in.
That way they can not be tempted to harvest their favorite parts of me, like I had to, on the days when being half Haitian wasn't popular and being half Puerto Rican was always a riddle every time my mother came to get me.
but when strangers and lovers do, I state this:
Dear estranged lover,
I am not placed on
MY self built table
for you
to pick apart
your favorite pieces of me,
my culture is
not for you
to dissect and savor individually,
foolishly surveying which is your favorite flag
or which tongue you wish me to whisper, this melange is not made for your catering. I am no morsel,
to be fed to an eager set of ignorant lips.
I am the combination
of an uncheweable
whole meal to be lodged
down your awestruck
t h r o a t.
#amixedchick #afrolatina #haitian AND #boricua #iamsupernatural #microaggressions are for basics
