Mami

A "poem"/spoken word I wrote a little less than a year ago for the 39th Annual Latin American Student Association Culture Show. Thought it was appropriate for the day.
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Mami, I said, who was the first president of the United States? Georgy Gwashington. I really really have to admit that as funny as it was for me to hear her massacre the English language, the woman really came a long way.

ooOOoo say can ju see…

I don’t remember much from my childhood, as everyone in here knows, I have pretty bad memory, but I always say my life started at seven because that’s the farthest my brain takes me. They say our first memories are usual traumatizing, for better or worse, and I couldn’t say I disagree.

I’ve been to DR about 8 times my whole life, only 3 of which I can remember; once at 7, once at 12, and last December. I remember riding the horse across this big ass mountain to get to my father’s village and getting pricked by some spiny things in the tree, and finally arrive only to see a huge village in the middle of a lush green valley.

Ojala que llueva cafe en el campo

The grua, or the tow truck, I remember being referred to as the bruja, which means witch in Spanish, and scared the shit out of me. I literally remember thinking there was some crazy psycho woman hovering through the air stealing cars because people were parked where they shouldn't have been.

A ella le gusta la gasolina, dame mas gasoline.

When I would go to the store and my 1 American dollar could buy me maddd cookies, I was overwhelmed, the crazy thing is that I still got change back too

The coconut trees, and trying to get mangos that were so up high, and tasted so good.
The rain was definitely my favorite, I remember running outside naked and having the huge rain drops smack me so hard on my back that I could almost fall, and they stung too. But it felt so great.

She’ll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain.

The lights would go out randomly, but it was most fun at night, because I had to find my way back home or else el cuco was gonna eat my penis, at least that’s what mami said.

And the passion of Juan Luis Guerra’s voice.

"Quisiera ser un pez,
Para tocar mi nariz en tu pecera,
Y hacer burbujas de amor por donde quiera,
Oh oh oh oh, pasar la noche en vela mojado en ti."

But by far, the memory that stuck out was going to mami’s house, where she grew up.

Before I go into detail about this, let me tell you all that I just came from Uganda this past summer, and some of the houses in Uganda looked like mansions compared to mami’s. it was literally a house built of branches, I don’t even know how it was still standing. Mami doesn’t even remember her parents, they died when she was about 5, and she was the youngest of 10 brothers and sisters. Because there were no adults around, everyone helped to take care of one another, but especially of my mother who would stay at home alone while everyone went to make some type of plata.
Mami showed me the table where she used to put herself to sleep in tears, because she was so sad, that hurt me the most.

Like most of our parents here, the journey from our home countries to America was probably not the easiest. And I won’t try to start telling you that story because I know we’d be here for hours; difficult to say the least.

My mom stopped going to school after 2nd grade, and on her way to Brooklyn she paid a man on the plane 20 dollars, to teach her the ABC’s and sign her name, and somehow raised a son who’ll be graduating come May with Honors up his ass and degrees comprised of words she probably never even knew existed.

And when you really take time to think about it, it’s incredible. That from a small village in a 3rd world country in a matter of 22 years, someone could change their life so drastically.

And that battle has not been so recent either. We are here today, living because all of our ancestors, fought for the best for us.

Yes, my family came from the campo, and I am damn proud of it.

Yes, my dad doesn’t have a full set of teeth because while he was homeless growing up he only ate sugar cane, and I am damn proud of it.

Yes, my sister’s may have gotten pregnant when they were 18, but they are very successful women; and no matter what anyone stereotypes, I am damn proud of it.

I’m Dominican and I’m gay and I’m damn proud of it.

My mom almost died giving birth to me, and I’m damn proud of it.

My parents speak little to no English, and they passed their citizenship tests, IN ENGLISH and I am damn proud of it.

I live in the projects in Spanish Harlem and I am proud of it.

At one point, our ancestors were enslaved, but somehow we are here and I am damn proud of it.

At one point, A wall will be finished to prevent Mexicans from getting into the US, but they will cross, and damnit I will be proud of that too.

At one point I will die, and I will return to the earth, and I will be proud of that too.

And while I may not know all the roots of my culture, las raices de mi cultura, I know my cultura is Latino, and I am damn proud of that.