Querida Abuelita,
I release you from your confusion,
From your poisoned tongue that spit venom when my brown curls bounced as I ran and frizzed cuando estaba lloviendo,
I release you from the hatred that was passed down in through your roots, up your tree branches skipping over your corazón but settling en su mente,
I forgive you for thinking colonizers and rapists were innocent explorers, discovering tierras ya descubiertas,
and fairer skin always meant better, smarter, non-criminal,
Our Ancestors,
Nuestras Madres,
Nuestras Hijas,
Were Raped
Raped
Raped
Yes, I said RAPED,
Until we became mutts of a new kind,
An attempt to force us to leave our Taíno completely behind,
But they have not been lost,
They linger everywhere: across my high cheekbones,
almond shaped ojos and broad nose,
Did you know
that Boriquas are some of the most racially
mixed people in the world?
Now considered a strong and vibrant mix de
tres raíces - Indígenas, European and African,
Querida Abuelita,
you wished we could’ve left off,
Left out,
The Indigenous and African,
so you protected my melanin from the sun,
and scoffed when I tanned darker than my mom,
You feared something,
Something you did not understand,
Something you had not the words for,
Una cosa que no podías sentir profundamente en tu corazón
but were told to think,
it was ingrained within you
Before you could ever put words to sound,
Before your feet ever really touched the ground,
But I,
I was your favorite grandchild,
And your heart, without question, loved and accepted every part of me, never skipping a beat,
Letting the occasional twisted-sweet insult
slip out of your mouth,
Like an uncontrollable twitch forced upon you by generations and generations of self-hatred and confusion,
A ravaging of the mind by said “explorers”,
That we aren’t good enough,
That we are barbaric,
And when we have nothing left to offer but our hearts,
We are only meant to be raped, slaved, and murdered,
Querida Abuelita,
You are and will always be my favorite person,
Long after your ashes settle en la arena de Orchard Beach,
And long after las olas del mar las llevan a Vieques,
Long after we meet again,
Querida Abuelita,
It is not your fault,
It is not your fault,
It is not your fault,
They never hated us,
They’ve always been scared and envious,
Because we are more than good enough.
cynthia’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.