August 8, 2008

The White Card

From Puerto Rico I came wondering if I would live bien

in the City of los rascacielos. The one thing I learned was

that The South Bronx was not as people’s embustes went.

I graduated with honors at Luis Muñoz

Marin’s Junior High school and earned more famous

galardones later on along the way.

I tried hard when College came around.

Tried hard not to be a Welfare recipient.

That was my first mistake, as when you have a

College Degree, Welfare is out of the way.

Then I noticed y me aproveché of one of the

many gracias I inherited from mama y papa.

My complexion was leche blanca and my

pelo lacio did not give me away. I then started to

act in a powerful demure, which religion and race

told me, I could get away.

Knowing this, I asked myself, why try so hard in

la Universidad if in New York todo se da? When

one day una blanca señora told me, “mija, you will not have

any problems in this country, becuzz, tu eres leche carnation

the type that slaps many Americans in this nation.”

I wanted to be able to pronounce mi Inglés

with proper diction, to succeed and win in the land of

da free. Da, present verb form of to give. In this country,

if they really knew quien tu eres your failure would be to die

forever, ever and ever.

“No habla Español,” I quickly learned how to say.

It was when I realized this beach wherein I came to live

bien is a barrel of motion, wherein phonics and

acting is the best potion.

Putting my spic diction together with acting classes,

I became different personas en la Universidad que

todo se da. It is not my fault I look like leche blanca and

lacio hair by nature. If I looked like this and like

that, people never knew who I really was..

Las cosas nunca are the way they should, when

things go wrong, I was never told I looked like

King Kong because my hair looked like Konk.

An Oreo Cookie is what I am, except that

the rule works the other way around.

White on the outside, black in the inside

like the dirt that lays on the ground.

My first job was working as a teller in

a bank. One day a Spanish gentleman

tried very hard to speak to me in Inglés, when

I told him, “Señor, señor, yo hablo el Español,

but do not understand your Inglés;

Why don’t we play this game all over again?

“Pero no entiendo, I don’t spic Englishhh!”

….then he saw the White Card encrypted in my

suit. He lowered his head and said,

“Here is my Green Card Señora, now, do you

capishhh my Inglishhh?”

By: Hilda Cruz

For: Pedro Pietri - who inspired me to write in Spanglish becuzz Puerto Ricans never Assimilated, they are Ass y Melao - como

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