By Noemi Iniguez
Before the gold and manifesto destiny, before the West was romanticized, Mexicanos used to live where I live today, and before that Native Americans.
When my dad and then my mother came to California, they were greeted by friends and family. My dad was able to become a citizen in no time, while my mom became citizen of the United States in 2011.
To me, a border, is a sign of movement, movimiento.
A border is supposed to regulate entrances and exits between both lands I am a part of.
I have family on both sides and carry both cultures in my blood.
When I am asked who I am, I say I am a Chicana
Mexican – American
To me, adding a wall to one side, takes away a part of who I am.
Mexican—American.
American.
I am expected to be okay with a wall to part my family, to cut me into two halves, to leave behind where I come from.
On the other hand, I face the wall, but on the otherhand, I face the loss of my family.
I face racism and discrimination of my family who has been here all their life but are expected to move because they don’t have papers.
I face anger as the man who called my family criminals, drug dealers, and rapists is about to be the President of the United States.
Donald Trump is President of the United States.
Mexicanos have been moving back and forth throughout their existence.
From America to Mexico
From being deported and separated from their family
To staying here and facing racism, but working
Trabajando para vivir, para existir.
Para lograr sus suenos.
Whatever they may be.
Moviendo y moviendo
Bailando, corriendo, caminando.
Pero no nos muevas de aqui.
No more.
Estamos aqui para quedarnos.
We’re here to stay, and we’ll still be here, fighting against Donald Trump and his motherfucking wall.
