We're always asking for too much in this office. First it was raspberries. Now it is kiwis. The kiwis roll around on the table in our office kitchen then rot.
At work, I sit on the second floor of
...
[+]
I'm Nepantling, as I have been.
Nepantla is the borderland, the in-between.
But much more than a place,
Nepantla is a state of being.
Contradictory and ambiguous,
Where white and black are grey,
Nepantla is a state of doing.
So I am Nepantling, as I have been.
They've told me I need to improve the race,
They've told me I am dark-skinned,
Prieta.
Who told me? When did they tell me?
The "American dream" I have pursued,
And for what motive?
I'm Nepantling, as I have been.
Representando my culture,
Orgullosamente representing.
But, who do I represent?
Dual citizenship and dual identity,
Contradictions.
Who am I? What am I?
My friends say, you're a gringa now!
But I didn't want to be.
I have been Nepantling,
Walking in someone else's shoes.
Of somebody who they told me I must be.
A güerita, a gringuita, an immigrant with papers.
An American citizen at last,
At last? But I was born in America.
America is my land.
It was ours before they took it from us.
I have been Nepantling,
Looking for the authenticity I thought I possessed,
Tolerating the contradictions I find.
Embracing the American dream,
Of being who I am without having to wonder.
Nepantla is the borderland, the in-between.
But much more than a place,
Nepantla is a state of being.
Contradictory and ambiguous,
Where white and black are grey,
Nepantla is a state of doing.
So I am Nepantling, as I have been.
They've told me I need to improve the race,
They've told me I am dark-skinned,
Prieta.
Who told me? When did they tell me?
The "American dream" I have pursued,
And for what motive?
I'm Nepantling, as I have been.
Representando my culture,
Orgullosamente representing.
But, who do I represent?
Dual citizenship and dual identity,
Contradictions.
Who am I? What am I?
My friends say, you're a gringa now!
But I didn't want to be.
I have been Nepantling,
Walking in someone else's shoes.
Of somebody who they told me I must be.
A güerita, a gringuita, an immigrant with papers.
An American citizen at last,
At last? But I was born in America.
America is my land.
It was ours before they took it from us.
I have been Nepantling,
Looking for the authenticity I thought I possessed,
Tolerating the contradictions I find.
Embracing the American dream,
Of being who I am without having to wonder.