When I was younger I would look into the mirror.
Wishing that my skin were just a little darker.
That my Spanish was a little bit farther along.
Sometimes I felt like I didn’t belong.
Hearing that I wasn’t Mexican because I was light.
Or didn’t speak Spanish just right.
When I was in elementary school I felt that I wasn’t really accepted as being Mexican because I didn’t speak Spanish or didn’t have the right shade of skin. It wasn’t until middle school that I felt like I actually belonged. I met my friends that accepted me for who I was. All of us had family from the same part of Mexico, El Valle De Guadalupe. I accepted that the only person that I should worry about making me happy was I. My friends helped me realized that there is no set image of what I am suppose to look like or talk. They help me bridge out to join M.E.Ch.A and La Sociedad on campus.
I know who I am and what I stand for and that’s all that matters. The weight caused by the perceived views and pressures slowly lifted as I became more comfortable with myself. I was able to focus more on other things, with out that sense of being judge. My actions and beliefs dictate my identity.
I wake up in the morning now, still looking into the mirror.
Still the same shade of skin and same skills in Spanish.
What’s different from back then to now?
I accept who I am and I smile back at myself in the mirror as I begin the day.
I am not trying to live up to others expectations of how I should look or speak. I am who I am.
This is beautifully written. I like the use of the mirror image of yourself. It reminds me a bit of Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits.