I am a child of the Americas, a light-skinned mestiza of the Caribbean, a child of many diaspora, born into this continent at a crossroads. I am a U.S. Puerto Rican Jew, a product of the ghettos of New York I have never known. An immigrant and the daughter and granddaughter of immigrants. I speak English with passion: it’s the tongue of my consciousness, a flashing knife blade of crystal, my tool, my craft. I am Caribeña, island grown. Spanish is my flesh, Ripples from my tongue, lodges in my hips: the language of garlic and mangoes, the singing of poetry, the flying gestures of my hands. I am of Latinoamerica, rooted in the history of my continent: I speak from that body. I am not African. Africa is in me, but I cannot return. I am not taína. Taíno is in me, but there is no way back. I am not European. Europe lives in me, but I have no home there. I am new. History made me. My first language was spanglish. I was born at the crossroads and I am whole. -Aurora Levins Morales
Posted on: Wed, 09 Apr 2014 01:56:12 +0000
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