I am from a name that tastes like tin, distinctive hair, and loud, sporadic laughter
The sad elbow perched on the window sill whose place I refuse to take after
The way brothers can be for each other, I want a friend to call my best
Walking away from the ‘American average,’ and starting a silent protest.
I am from dreaming in double-dutch rhymes and leaving this dingy house,
Being my own individual, not some man’s lonesome, mistreated spouse.
A garden that grants me freedom from the chains that holds me down,
Departing fromMango Streetfor a more diverse and accepting town.
I am from a late working father and a mother who let shame depict her destiny
A string of fingers pointing to haphazard houses has finally broken the best of me
Defending Nenny for her comments that seem so often so out there
Demanding Rachel and Lucy take their snooty comments elsewhere
I am from eager anticipation to having my hopes beaten and shattered.
Mindless put downs and accusations that have me emotionally battered.
Enough backing down, I’m tired of always hiding and sick of being afraid
Does it in truth matter how the world has me portrayed?
I am from two steps out of the darkness into an unfamiliar surrounding,
Easing in and out tension as I proceed to break new grounding
I stand a little straighter, and flash a smile to those I pass.
Until I lose my confidence with the strangers that harass.
I am from being the target of the debasing bluntness of their speech.
I’m done saying I’m sorry, it’s my forgiveness they should beseech
New manor I will stride for, but I could never forget where I’m from
Where retaliation and anger, are familiar terms I won’t become.
