XXIKKA

by Joey Reyes

I am the peace within my mother’s pain
I am the sensitivity hidden within my father’s machismo
I am the escape my nana sought when she left Mexico 44 years ago
I am the manifestation of hope the ancestors called out for when they were
raped
beaten
and assimilated

I am Frida Kahlo
Torn in two
With a heart that achieves in whiteness
But cries out in queer, brown, nonconforming existence

You don’t see that
I give you the me you want to see
I give you the me that you see as
Articulate
Docile
Suburban
White

You don’t see me as I roll my body to the music that fuels my spirits
You don’t see me as I look in the mirror
Naked
Telling my body how beautiful it is
You don’t see the scars of the mental and emotional abuse
your culture has fed into my life

You see me as I am, which is as I am not
Truth be told
You don’t see me at all
You see the self you’ve superimposed onto my brown skin
My brown eyes
My dark brown hair
My differently framed body
My queerness
​
Truth be told
My soul is lighter than your skin
But you can’t have that
You never will
Because that’s not you