by Icess Fernandez Rojas
From the pelos necios on my head,
To the tamales I have for feet,
I am Latina.
Confused as you maybe for me
Not being a hot mommy chula,
These carmel curves and supple brown skin
Speak a romantic language that you want to be included in.
Like when I roll my “r”
Like a racy red roadster ready to run.
Or when I move my hips
swish, sway swoosh.
Are you ready?
Can you recognize?
Don’t be fooled by street corner imitations.
Watered down, assembly line, temporary fascinations.
‘Cause I’m not made to order,
And you, can’t have it your way.
Real Latinas have curves,
Top, bottom, side to side that make you want to ride
And not get off.
Or maybe you do, if you recognize but word to the wise,
The contours of her lips do more than kiss
They inspire greatness and aspire to be
More than what you usually see.
Brown and proud?
No. Latina and proud.
No need for a revolution,
Just a quiet solution to what I’m about to say.
Now listen closely.
From the pelos necios on my head
To the almond shape of my eyes
You cannot deny…I am Latina