immigrant does not equal ignorant. i may
not be one of you, whose skins are as pale as
snow and hair as yellow as the cornfields we
pass by on a day to day basis, but i do know
what it is like to be human. i am, too. my
mother works hard and my father works
hard until their fingers bleed and eye bags
sag. did you think we chose to come here
because we wanted to ruin the very economy
and country that we hope to sustain us for
the rest of our lives? we bleed the same as
you and shit the same way you do. we are no
different. when you come to my face and tell
me that i do not belong here, you reconsider
your words and tell yourself that your very
hatred is the one thing that does not belong.
we do not steal jobs, we do it more
efficiently. so when you think of immigrants
and think dirty, lost, exotic people who have
come to a place they have no right to be in,
ask yourself: is it illegal to want to live?
YOU ARE READING
I, Girl
Poetryi am my own god, my own spirit, my own prayer. -- a complete series of 44 poems concerning girlhood, dread, and catholic guilt.
