Trojan Horse

I imagine my ancestors sobbed on November 9th

Their rotted bodies rolling in the graves they lie which were dug by white men

muffled strangled screams

I imagine that from the pits of my soul, carved in my bones, is where my gritos came from last week

i marched in the streets of Oakland, which is native land, and felt the surge of Malintzin and Pancho Villa in my blood

I held strangers as they cried and felt the nurture of the Purepechan women who came before me, who once inhabited this stolen “California,” find a home in my soul

I felt the sorrow that my indigenous people felt when we were slaughtered by the Spanish

broken with pain

I felt the rage that the Aztec men took on when they became warriors and fought the oppressor, meeting him with resistance

I have lived many times and survived many atrocities,

the energy i am made from is older than time

my old soul knows pain that i cannot speak

it tells me i will survive

and yet my old soul knows sorrow that i do not know how to feel


i was born this time into a casing that gave me advantage

i am not ashamed of my light skin

as a child i wished i looked more like my brown mothers and sisters

Coatlicue made me to resemble the colonizers

i spent my childhood trying to bronze my skin to fit better in family photos


I realized last week I am a trojan horse

born with marginalizations of queerness, latinness, of being violenced, abused, silenced, pillaged, hurt, targeted, victimized

born with privileges of light skin, straight passing, cis gendered, resourced, educated, wearing skin of the oppression,

the cosmos aligned just right so that I would be born just so

and like the feathered serpent, I flew with grace into an ivory tower, slithered my way into these institutions, walked right in unnoticed

i will be part of the revolution

I have access, entry, I will dismantle it from the inside out

unscrew it bolt by bolt until it topples down



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