Caramelo

yellow-bone, red-bone, light-skin, white-girl, snow-bunny;

they been called everything but BLACK.

curly, kinky, ringlets; draping down their back,

broken combs sacrificed in the detangling war.

years of enduring the creamy white bitter-sweet burn on their scalp,

all so that their hair is; anything but BLACK.

conversation flowing from their lips,

a kween who can correct you and demand respect in their grandmothers tongue.

yet once someone gets a whiff of their sofrito on the stove,

feels the sway of their hips to bachata,

or hears the clap of their hands to the clave rhythm on the salsa beat;

the conversation turns in to, you can’t be BLACK!

---

My experience as an Afro-Latinx person is not unique.

One in which my Blackness is equally questioned as much as my Latinx heritage.

As if my appearance and lived experiences aren’t enough.

I have spent years of my life trying to make sense of where I fit in.

Constantly balancing the pull between:

“I am here!”

&

“Am I taking up space that isn’t for me?”

I overcome.

I realize, in order to stop letting the definitions of others make or break me,

I have to own who I am.

& now that I know who that is, let me re-introduce myself;

Hello,

My name is Stephy.

I am a spanish speaking, curly haired, bachata dancing, bomba drumming, sofrito cooking, Afro-Latinx person,

& i’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.

Latinx is Black: no ifs, ands, or buts, about it.

& i’m so happy to be here.

xoxo, Stephy