De donde soy puedes oir chistes y chisme

Bienvenido al mes de los hispanos y latinos, from Sept. 15 to October 15, here in the United States celebramos la herencia y contributions de los hispanos y latinos.

Last Hispanic and Latino Heritage month I talked about the No Sabo Kids movement pero este año quiero hablar de un lugar muy especial para mi: De donde soy.

“Where are you from?” This seemingly simple question can be complex for those of us who have deep ties a los dos lados de la frontera. It’s a quick trip for an old millennial like me to an identity crisis.

All I know for sure is that las fronteras, presidentes y leyes con tiempo siempre cambien but what doesn’t change is who our parents, grandparents and great grandparents are.

Hispanic, Latino, Mexican-American, Chicano, Americano, Native American, Basque, Mestizo the options to identify myself go on and on but they always feel diluted and empty. Como cruzando la frontera, I’ve never been able to pick a lane.

All I can tell you with certainty is this:

Where I’m from you can hear chistes y chismes, sana sana colita de rana, arroyos roaring, heavy with rain and the stories de un tiempo difícil that we overcame. ¿No oyes ladrar los perros?

De donde soy hay fiestas that last for days, bautismos, bodas, y funerales con tios y tias in beautiful clothes. On Sunday cousins chase each other around the piñatas and Monday they stand upright under the zia symbol of perfect friendship and sing America the Beautiful.

Tengo corazon Purépecha beating fast like the unconquered hummingbird, mis huesos son hecho de sopitos, ojos de un tecolotito and my blood thick like chocolate mole and you still say “But you don’t look Mexican” No mames guey! Give me a second and let me look for my sombrero para cantarte la cucaracha con mi botellita de tequila.

De donde soy la chupacabra, la llorona and the golden carp son mis vecinos, si pagas atencion you might see la chona all sick with her pantalones estrech y sus esneakers converse, eeee bro!

Yo soy del Río de Apatzingàn where no tree is thirsty. You can hear windmills chillando in the strong winds of Magdalena that push tumbleweeds across the highway. I am old y nueva mexicana, con un acento sin casa, una hija de los sueños de mis abuelos, born on the west coast where the surfs up bro.

Soy de besos de miel con sopapillas hecho de mano carrying the weight of the American Dream, con la virgen de guadalupe tattooed on my back. If you paint my portrait I look like Las Dos Fridas with a smile like Cantinflas and feathers of Quetzalcóatl Bendíceme Última!

Where I’m from there is assimilation, code switching y vergüenza in two languages. Sometimes we speak in English but we always love in Spanish. My abuelitas only dreamed of the rooms I stand in today. Cheech & Chong, Red or Green Chile, Ni de aquí, Ni de allá. My plate has no grapes.

Soy Carranza, Magaña, Càrdenas, Barragàn, Pino, Armijo, y Heiss, un rompecabeza of a million pieces de dos culturas, lucha, sudor y tierra.

So if you ask me where I’m from, I will tell you that I am a daughter doblada como un crochet into this beautiful fertile American land. Every sunrise is a warm kiss on my cheek, and every mudrugada puedes oir los secretos in Spanglish of those who came before me. Mis raíces are firmly planted in this soil, nurtured by generations who have called this place home.

Where I’m from isn’t just a place you can draw on a map; it’s the very essence of my being and the cherished inheritance I carry with honor. Feliz mes de los hispanos y latinos! Wherever you are from, stay proud mi gente No te rajes!