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Nationwide
on Latino Communities
Nationwide
del oeste de Massachusetts
La Prensa del oeste de Massachusetts is published by AriadneMedia Inc. All Rights Reserved 2007.
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Why I Became A Loud Puerto Rican
(and other impolite stories)
By Magdalena Gómez
(and other impolite stories)
By Magdalena Gómez
Visit Magdalena's website
by clicking here
by clicking here
Editor's Note: This poem was performed by Magdalena Gómez, Julissa Rodríguez and Irene Shaikly at the announcement of the launch of Teatero Vida, a theater project conceived and spearhead by Gómez. The announcement was made at the Springfield Museums courtyard and was attended by more than 100 people.
In the library
I find my people
on dusty bottom shelves,
but I find them;
history disappears
like cotton candy
on the tongue;
if I don't tell my story
someone else tell it for me.
Boricua,
do you know why Lolita loaded her gun?
Do you know Don Pedro Albizu Campos
defended our right to freedom
the right to independence
in seven languages
and was silenced
in every one?
Do you know your blood
jumps and pumps djembe?
keeps time to the rhythm of chains?
Do you know
the blood of Africa
runs through our sugar cane?
Do you know the sharp edge of El Machete
like your finger knows
the soft edges of your lover?
Do you know you are Indio?
that Boriken means
land of the brave and noble people?
Did you ever start a conversation in Spanish
then switch to English
in an elevator/in a store/on a bus/on a train
because you felt a secret shame
a fear that someone
might infer
you don't speak English?
Afraid your story will be told
in the MIRA-MIRA
HOT BLOODED LATIN
NO PEEKE INGLE
CUCHI-CUCHI
CUCARACHA
CHA-CHA
CARTOONS
THAT KEEP US DROWNING
BETWEEN ISLANDS?
That used to be me,
lying to myself
in perfect English
denying who I am
in perfect English
trading my tostones
for Twinkies
my pernil
for White Castle
my Bomba y Plena
for Top Ten
in perfect English
My body
my history
my ancestry
my literature
my power
my people
las curanderas
los guarapos
los tabqueros
las fincas
los montes
la religion
la musica del tambor
la escopeta
el machete
EL GRITO DE LARES
My people
I walked away from you
in perfect English.
I left you on the dusty bottom shelf.
But I have found you:
in English
in Spanish
in Spanglish
with palabra índigena
and Nigerian inflection
clave y castañuela
translingual connection
Santa Barbara of the white face
beneath your womanly vestment
a cauterized muscle
of defiant blackness
throbs against daybreak
orb and lingam
calabash and chalice
chain and crucifix
survive the middle passage;
petroglyph carved deep into bone.
I take my people back.
I take my language back.
I take my Taina/Africana history back
I take my Taina/Africana blood back
I take my literature back
I take my music back
I take my island back
I pray the Orishas
take me back.
Story bound in blood, leather and sword
I place you on the shelf
that meets the world
between the eyes;
I stack you in my arms
on my back.
I stand on the tower of you.
I make of you a bridge
between islands
and march singing your name
in all my languages.
I AM A LOUD PUERTO RICAN
And I thank you
Estados Unidos
for all of your insults.
They have become
my poems.
Copyright, 2003 Magdalena Gomez
I find my people
on dusty bottom shelves,
but I find them;
history disappears
like cotton candy
on the tongue;
if I don't tell my story
someone else tell it for me.
Boricua,
do you know why Lolita loaded her gun?
Do you know Don Pedro Albizu Campos
defended our right to freedom
the right to independence
in seven languages
and was silenced
in every one?
Do you know your blood
jumps and pumps djembe?
keeps time to the rhythm of chains?
Do you know
the blood of Africa
runs through our sugar cane?
Do you know the sharp edge of El Machete
like your finger knows
the soft edges of your lover?
Do you know you are Indio?
that Boriken means
land of the brave and noble people?
Did you ever start a conversation in Spanish
then switch to English
in an elevator/in a store/on a bus/on a train
because you felt a secret shame
a fear that someone
might infer
you don't speak English?
Afraid your story will be told
in the MIRA-MIRA
HOT BLOODED LATIN
NO PEEKE INGLE
CUCHI-CUCHI
CUCARACHA
CHA-CHA
CARTOONS
THAT KEEP US DROWNING
BETWEEN ISLANDS?
That used to be me,
lying to myself
in perfect English
denying who I am
in perfect English
trading my tostones
for Twinkies
my pernil
for White Castle
my Bomba y Plena
for Top Ten
in perfect English
My body
my history
my ancestry
my literature
my power
my people
las curanderas
los guarapos
los tabqueros
las fincas
los montes
la religion
la musica del tambor
la escopeta
el machete
EL GRITO DE LARES
My people
I walked away from you
in perfect English.
I left you on the dusty bottom shelf.
But I have found you:
in English
in Spanish
in Spanglish
with palabra índigena
and Nigerian inflection
clave y castañuela
translingual connection
Santa Barbara of the white face
beneath your womanly vestment
a cauterized muscle
of defiant blackness
throbs against daybreak
orb and lingam
calabash and chalice
chain and crucifix
survive the middle passage;
petroglyph carved deep into bone.
I take my people back.
I take my language back.
I take my Taina/Africana history back
I take my Taina/Africana blood back
I take my literature back
I take my music back
I take my island back
I pray the Orishas
take me back.
Story bound in blood, leather and sword
I place you on the shelf
that meets the world
between the eyes;
I stack you in my arms
on my back.
I stand on the tower of you.
I make of you a bridge
between islands
and march singing your name
in all my languages.
I AM A LOUD PUERTO RICAN
And I thank you
Estados Unidos
for all of your insults.
They have become
my poems.
Copyright, 2003 Magdalena Gomez