Looks can be deceiving

Looks can be deceiving, and all that you see is a stereotype through the light skin, good English, and different persona.

"Ay, miralo. pinche gringo."

And God forbid my English is almost flawless, speaking with an enunciation that leaves even Caucasians dumbfounded. No more, "Ay, where yous going?" or "For reals!" or "I burly got here 10 minutes ago." Oh no, not me. I fit your stereotype perfectly. So much that in the states of Illinois and Indiana latinos gave me my own store!
"...en el supermercado el guero!"

I'm in love with stares of silent judgment and the Spanish or English comments spoken under one's breath. And yet for the first time in my life, the one thing I've fought so hard I found myself wishing for: to be treated the same, like all the rest.

I just couldn't see it...was I blind? I mean, I just couldn't see nor understand why people wouldn't consider it a blessing to be colorBLIND. I got this checklist, listed characteristics by which I think I could be identified; I got the dark-haired bald head, I've got the brown/hazel eyes, and yeah my skin is light...but the question is why?

I bet the answer lies in the fact that we so often identify each other by the letters on our chest, or the marked symbols on our feet, and even the ladies marked right across your jogging pants ass cheeks!!!

And there were days I found myself hoping a teacher or professor wouldn't ask me if I was mixed. Damn. Could they see I was raised on $1 elotes and 50cent raspas? Hand-me-down clothes and sneakers and my uncle’s old chanclas? Couldn’t they feel the paisa in me, waiting to burst out???
"...y volver volver...!VOLVER!"

But mariachi music never made me darker or tough. Not even Dickies, a dego-tee and a collared shirt with only the top button up along with fat-laced Nike Cortez or Converse Chucks and hanging on the corner selling dimes for a buck or getting and giving ass-whoopins' and escaping the cops by luck...BUT the life that the movie "Blood In, Blood Out" was glorifying, I realized on second thought, really fucking sucked!

So why is my skin light? Mi abuela dijo que si le preguntas a Dios, allí hay una respuesta. Pero he esperado veintiún años y todavía nada regresa. God obviously has a sense of humor because physically flawless women are attracted to the guy who's personality is "cuter" and mean people spread rumors at inopportune times and yet amongst it all I say the same line over and over...Why is my skin light? Am I the first one it's taken over?

Or maybe...I'm just boring and egotistical whose concern with my light skin I've blown up when in reality the issue is quite miniscule and my goal in this was to send a message and I know my approach might be too aggressive and I'm tired of words, always looking for ways to create...and that's great, but trying to be a poet has caused me to lose my directive...which is finding an answer to the question:
WHY THE HELL IS MY SKIN SO DAMN LIGHT?!?!?!

You know, it almost brainwashed me, my skin. At the age of 4, while living in LA, I proclaimed there was no way in HELL I could be Mexican! God's sense of humor back at work again. But through the years I was shown my people's history through the revolutions of Villa, Guevara, Zapata y Chavez. And I was taught to love through the words of Ramon Ayala, Pedro Infante, y Vicente Fernandez. Celia fed me "Azucar!" and taught my feet to move, but those close to me know I still got a lot to learn, show, and prove. Tito never said a word yet always put me in the groove and Santana set the mood right when you wanted to chill and not move.

The light skin is a culture, a way of life, an imprint on the people who live by it, who live with it; who just LIVE it. And you can't blame Ferdinand or Isabella, or Columbus for the light skin. Hell, look at me! I think I came out pretty damn okay...maybe a little better than okay, but okay for the most part. And if history teaches us anything it is that when we choose not to learn from her, we are doomed to repeat her. So the next time you see someone with light skin, brown skin, rich skin, poor-down-and-out skin, treat them the way you would tu madre, tu padre, tus primos, tias y tios. Por que el color de nuestra piel hace nuestro juicio. Si aprendemos de la historia, vemos que nosotros no somos, y nunca fuimos una minoría. We popularized lowriders, nurturing one of the most dominant cultures in the states, worshipping our women as queens even if the only way we show it is by calling you "Vieja!" or calling you drunk and proclaiming our love for you, or when you ask us if we love you, we answer with, “Hey, where am I going?! You drove, didn’t you? Where am I going?!”...well, you understand what I mean...

In the end, I guess I may have not found an answer as to why my skin is light that is truly concrete, but I do have a greater appreciation for what lies underneath...and as for that age-old taboo about wearing white before Labor Day, or after Labor Day, well, fuck it...







...I wear white all year round...