By Sophia M. Giudici
Learning to be Latina I do not speak Spanish well pero mi gente me reconoce y trata de hablarme I mime and mouth, ask them to speak slowly (lo siento, más lento por favor) And tell them when the bus is coming (en trece minutos) Or where the nearest train station is Giving them directions while wishing I could ask them to help me find where I came from because I’m lost I wrapped my hair for the first time this week like my roommate taught me, and I thought “I’m glad my complexion at least is dark enough to show que soy boricua de verdad Mí mamá es de la brega y sobrevivió con pana mientras pellizcaba morivivi” With hoops in my ears I’ve had pierced since infancy and a covered head I walk to work on Thursdays while it’s still dark and a man stops in his car to ask me a question but I just blend in And in my own culture I still feel like an orphan I stepped on the shores of Puerto Rico for the first time Nine months ago Where family history taught me I have always been born to bastards Tití took us in and spoke the whole time of connection, of my cousin who visits so often “Send a picture to her, she’ll be so jealous you’re here!” How could I tell her, I’ve been a daughter of Cain my whole life, envious of my blood who’s had the blessing of heritage ¿Pero mi mamá nunca tuvo un padre? Rincón y reggaetón ravished me in welcome, the breeze a bombarding embrace that swore I belonged Cuéntame todo Tití, del abandono, de la traición Jamás la envidiosa Con ojos. Claros. Observo mis raíces. We went to the cemetery where some of my ancestors are buried Mis raíces rest firmly in the island Why then did I resemble the bamboo shoots rather than the tabonuco roots? Hurricanes of grief have driven me from the past and I’ve asked my mother few questions, pero creo que es la hora de que pregunte because I am lost my mother got out of the ghetto gave me a loving home but, at what cost? Tití te pregunto, even if riddled in ruins and sinking mud commingled with shit consumiera todo lo que soy o could have been? At least destroyed in this hurricane I am no longer an orphan Necesito conocer quién soy yo I need to know, to be, Y cuando me conozca, fractured and whole, Spanish speaking o no, I’ll be/I’ll be
Sophia M. Giudici is currently an English graduate fellowship student living in Washington, D.C.. Originally from New Jersey, she is an emerging poet and artist expected to have her first sonnet wreath published in Nexus, a journal by Loyola University Chicago’s Hank Center for the Catholic Intellectual Heritage. She is currently working on her first poetry collection.