Ni de aquí, Ni de allá

My whole life I grew up in New York City, sunset park to be precise. New York was the place I called home however, it never felt complete. I went to school with kids I knew yet i spoke a language my teacher did not understand. I remember the afternoons I spent with my mom trying to learn the ABC’s in english. By the age of 8 I was already translating for my parents with my limited vocabulary. All my life I have lived between two worlds. This I realized when at the age of 13 my family and I moved to Mexico. My whole family was back in Mexico, the place my parents called home but could not visit. I would finally be able to spend time with my family and visit all the places my mother mentioned in her stories. I thought about a perfect live in a perfect house surrounded my the best people. How naive was I to think that.

At first, everything was so new and different. Although I had visited when I was younger, being there and knowing I would not have to leave gave me a sense of tranquility, or at least thats what I thought. I started school in August. I remember feeling excited and hopeful to make new friends. I got into my brand new uniform and headed to school. When I got there, everybody was standing outside. Everybody was standing in lines facing the front. I did not know what was happening. I rushed to find group “2B” which was the class I was assigned to. When I finally found the sign that corresponded to my group, I stood there, not knowing what to do. Everyone kept looking back at me. I could hear their whispers.

I think does whispers never went away. it was hard for me to make friends. i did not speak the spanish they spoke, i did not understand their jokes, I was not used to their food, I was not Mexican enough. That was when I realized, I was too American for the Mexicans, I was too Mexican for the Americans.I felt like an outsider in the place I was born but, I also felt like an outsider in the place my parents called home.

I may have two countries, but neither one is home, two countries, two worlds, but not a comfort zone.

As a Mexican American I find myself myself confused. viviendo con Un conflicto de identidad.

Amo la banda y la cultura Mexican pero para ellos, soy muy americana. To them I speak english to well to be Mexican. Lo que ellos no saben is that my voice is the offspring of two cultures colliding. Cual es el problema if my mouth carries two worlds?

Stuck in between two because I didn’t fit in neither one. How can I love the country that I was born in, knowing all the damage it has done to country my roots are in? How can I love the country my parents were born in when for them I am not enough? How can I love the country that saw me grow when my parents are considered rapist and criminals? To some im a mexican, to others im a gringa, at the end its just me and my unsolicited opinion.

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