Growing up Chicana after the 80s: Let Me tell You Como Va
Itâs drinking chocomĂl for breakfast,
los raspados in the summer,
It means eating mangos on a stick,
âChaqui Chisâ after Catechism
(y jugando en las maquinitas).
It means going to the buffet for special occasions,
drinking âChocolate Abuelitaâ when itâs cold,
and donât forget el cafĂ© con leche
en la noche con el panesito on the side.
Itâs learning your alphabet
(paâ que aprendas tu espelin muy bien).
It means parents working in factories
while going to night school
con la ticher, paâprender mas inglish
and the constant demands of âtraduceme esto.â
It means being 15-years-old;
a woman too young for everything
and too old to look back.
Itâs growing up with la Chilindrina to your left
And la Malinche to your right.
Itâs La Virgen de Guadalupe on your nightstand,
y persĂnate when we get on the freeway.
Itâs the comforting smell of endless candles
on the altar en el pasillo
(especially the green veladoras of San Judas)
and the 3 or 4 almaneques around the house
to make sure we remember to call relatives
Itâs Vicente Fernandez on the radio,
Juan/Ana Gabriel in your dadâs tocadisco
And ManĂĄ in your CD player.
Itâs growing up singing to los âBirosâ
Los Bukis and Luis Miguel.
Itâs Grease on DVD and Vaselina on VHS.
It means laughing at Cantiflas and Jim Carrey.
Itâs life according to novelas
And love en blanco y negro, like Pedro Infante.
It means inflating la pisina till youâre out of breath,
then filling it with cold water from the green manguera
when itâs warm enough outside,
and enjoying paletas de limĂłn con chile
y red bolis en el summer.
It means carne asada with los tĂos (every weekend)
y unas frias en el refri.
Itâs uncles having too much to drink
and giving your primitos money to dance
to the tunes of old rancheras and banda.
Itâs my primos en el Army
And my brokenhearted tĂas waiting by the phone (por si
           llaman).
Itâs going to la tienda de los Chinos
and buying three calling cards para llamar a la familia).
It means DĂa de las Madres el 10 de Mayo and
Motherâs Day on the second Sunday in May.
It means scraping your knees
to fight for the bolo at your primitaâs baptism
and standing in line (shortest to tallest)
to get your bolsita de dulces.
It means staying up to finish los recuerdos
for your sisterâs quinceañera
and your primaâs wedding
(which is followed by the comforting nudge of
âno te preocupes, youâre nextâ).
It means buying the materials in el suapmi
and stopping by the yard sales
(paâ ver las chacharas).
It means an assembly line for Christmas:
preparing maza, soaking las hojas, guisando, stuffing, wrapping and tying.
Then eating them en la Noche Buena
as we wait for Santo Clos and el Niñito Dios
to come at midnight so we can open our presents.
It means road trips con el lonche en la llelera:
papitas, sanwiches, y sodas,
with five to seven people in the car
(y el portabebé in the middle)
on the way to visit los abuelos for vacation
and everyone saying âque grandota estasâ once you get there.
On the way back it means carrying cartones con mecate as luggage
and paquetes de queso if they search you en la pasada.
Itâs a new baby in the family every year
(y vamos a la Ross para comprarle algo bonito).
It means Dad and los tĂos going to Home Depot
to buy madera for the new fence or tejaban
and living on the same street as your primos.
(con la mano, with the chancla, or the leather cinto)
prefaced by âte va âparecer Juan Diego cuando lleguemos a la casaâ
and concluded with âte voy a pegar si sigues llorando.â
It means té de manzanilla,
mejoralitos y penicilina.
It means blessing before you go to sleep
(paâ que no te agarre el cucuy cuando hagas mĂmis)
y que sueñes con los angelios.
           Tan tan.
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