El Fondo de Mí

As I’m growing up, I’m realizing that everyone around me is growing up too. It’s as if we’re all stuck in this web of change that is constantly spinning. 

I often stress about figuring out who I’m supposed to be, but when the sun goes down and the moon shines out, I’m reminded that I want to be defined by the things that I love. 

It’s an understatement to admit that family is the most important thing to me. I’ve traced my roots to the tiny rancho in El Sermon. I’m a microscopic patchwork of gorditas, besos, cafe de olla, sopes, and a round of tequila shots with limon. 

My aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents have all given me a slice of their bone. 

I was created from risks and the fear of getting caught. I’m molded by the backs of braceros and the centuries of brown people wishing for a better life. 

I love in Spanish and I fear in English. I didn’t grow up believing that life was a constant VHS tape of memory, but now that I’m at an age where all I do is remember, I’m stuck at the border. 

In the garden of my own insecurity, I was always self-conscious about my brown skin. I failed to understand that brown came from la tierra de mis antepasados.

From the clear arroyos to the wet cloudy sky, I’m struck by the way my blood flows through veins that I can no longer call just my own. 

I am what I love and what I love is you.