spanish


I’ve seen what a real father is.

My parents migrated to his country; they lived in New York’s barrios.

The Nuyorican hardships is what caused them to come west.

My father worked fourteen hour days for next to nothing and

mi madre worked her fingers and feet crooked to give us a better life.

In public, she still walks with her head down.

We are despised, discriminated against, but just as

things are changing for blacks, look at us…

We have quarterback professional football teams, we hosted late night talk shows

and we even have a wise Latina on the highest court.

I was the first in my family to graduate high school,

the first to impress whites, who thought I couldn’t read, with my English.

the first embarrass my parents with my Espanol

and the first to date a black woman.

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I read all those books in school I had to read because I didn’t have a television until I was ten and when I finally got one it was a black and white piece of shit, but it worked. I got a color one at 14 and it was like Christmas everyday. We lived in a four wall shack. I never had a room of my own sometimes I had to share my room with bichotes, Pimps and Prostitutas so we could make rent that month, which was cool because times were hard, but at least we were making rent, ya know.

All I could do at night was read and when I heard the sirens I would get my pencils and draw all the places my mind wanted to go. In my drawings I think I have traveled further than anyone but most of the time my stomach growled louder than my wildest imaginings.

MG Hardie