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Clueless
By Rudy Guevarra
What's
it like to be me you ask?
better yet,
what are you?
so many times
I hear this phrase
from those who don't know
what I am
but for those who think
they have a clue
you assume,
that I'm what you perceive me to be
but it's not what I see
in my reflection
it's not what I see
when I look at my mother,
or my father.
I'm the product, the offspring,
the creation of two worlds
now into one beating heart,
one soul
with a desire to be seen
don't look at my goatee,
my baggy jeans,
my short combed back hair,
or even my head when I rock a pelon
my skin color can be deceiving
unless you've painted my picture for me
I'm not the brown unknown,
but a Filipino dragon flying high up in the clouds
I'm the ancient serpent of pre-Columbian cultures
living among the warriors of the inner cities
and yuppies of the suburbs
I am your illusion, your reality,
your future
Mestizo you call me,
but what the hell is that?
does that include all of me?
my Asian, Indian, African, and Spanish roots?
can you see my multidimensional character?
the complexity of my being,
my existence
which thrives on the ignorance of the masses
I am the Filipino you once despised
the one you hated,
the Mexican you abhorred, ignore,
and continue to attack
but wait
what if I was both?
could you deal with the double reality
of my presence?
what am I you say?
what's it like to be me
a multiethnic individual of the twenty-first century
a creation of two similar cultures,
yet very different histories
I am a Mexipino
Mexican by birth, by land,
by blood
Filipino in the same right
and with the utmost pride
I may not be your typical "Pinoy,"
your typical "Chicano,"
but I am one among the many
so deal with it.
I may be foreign to you,
exotic
even threatening
but so many times
I can be invisible too
my illusion masks my inner thoughts
but not what I see
and it sure as hell won't cloud my sanity
I know who I am
see my genetic, cultural, social,
and political identity
is often in question
but it's all the same to me
I'm the multiple Mestizo
if you can call me such a thing
from the shores of the Philippines
my ancestors call
sending messages from Cavite,
Pangasinan
land of my forefathers
lest I not forget
blending in the whirlwinds of the Americas
touching down unnoticed,
dancing
in Michoacán
Purépero
my grandfather says
lest I not forget
let the voices of my ancestors carry me
into the cradle of my country
America
but what am I you ask?
what's it like to be me?
if you don't already know
then I can't help you
because I already gave you
the clue
that passed you by.
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