My Life as a Mexican

November 7, 2017
By Anonymous

The incident when I first noticed my identity was when I was in 3rd or 4th grade.  I really didn’t know my race, I didn’t know who I truly was. If I was an American, or a Mexican. Many things I noticed were the tone colors of other kids like me. Some were white like many other kids, some were brown like me, and some other kids were african american. I noticed how other kids treated other’s. How some stayed away from them, and how others got close to till this day are still friends. Many who were judged were african americans. I’ve never truly started noticing that I was a Hispanic until I truly started speaking both languages.

 

Spanish was my main language, but days that became months and years, made me change my language to English. My parents always told me, “In this country you were born in, the language you speak here is like treasure, you have the key to open many doors. Using both languages makes you even more powerful.” I noticed that in this country, many people spoke differently than others.


The author's comments:

It's a personal identity poem of many lives


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