I was born Mexican American.

I was fluent in Spanish as a little kid but now

I can only understand it.

I was born Mexican American.

I’m way more privileged than how my parents were raised.

Born from first gen Mexican Americans from Pasadena, Texas

While I was raised in every part of Houston, Tx.

I was born Mexican American.

My family fed me cow eyes & other “exotic” meats as a baby.

As I grew older it was goat barbacoa or cow intestines for breakfast, then whataburger for lunch like a real Texan.

And there’s always our beans and nopales to remind us we’ve always been on this land.

I smelled like a combo of fabuloso & rice porridge growing up

Because

my maternal grandma would often care for me.

And I resemble my late grandma who lives through me because I’m Mexican American.

“Don’t act like a white girl” I’m told because I’m Brown.

Different shades of Brown like the people before me,

Farm workers, hard workers, workers who strived for a better life.

Sometimes I act “white” & I don’t notice that’s the Montrose in me coming out.

My family moved to the East End so I wouldn’t lose my roots.

But I also lived in my parents hometown for a bit, living with my welito, because I’m Mexican American.

I was born Mexican American. I respect and honor traditions but

I won’t conform to the oppressive social structures forced upon me.

Part of being Mexican American is always being a fighter.

I am all the foods my grandma makes, flavored like smokey pozole with a tang of lime.

And I’m sharp but crunchy like crispy lettuce on a tostada. Easy to break unless you hold it right.

I am all the music and art, from Juan Gabriel to Vincent Valdez.

I am Mexican American to live for my ancestors, carry our vision forward, & let everyone know we’re still here.

For my family, mi gente, mi pueblo, los quiero mucho.