Being mestizo is being at the airport, trying to tell your abuela that you may be going home but you're leaving it
Being mestizo is staring at yourself in the mirror, looking to find a relative's sign, but never looking like your parents.
Being mestizo is hating the white bridge between you and the rest of the family. The same bridge that gives you privilege you'd be a brat to complain about, even when other people of color call you white-washed.
Being mestizo is hearing your mother sing in Spanish all day because she feels nothing but nostalgia and homesickness, understanding every lyrics but still not being able to twist your tongue the perfect way.
Being mestizo is sobbing at an eloquence contest because you were being asked what superpower you'd like to have, and you're trying to explain that you would give everything to be everywhere at once.
Being mestizo is carrying the pain of history; My people claiming to discover a whole New world while killing My people. And trying not to be bitter over some Pocahontas bullshit.
Being mestizo is never feeling enough and constantly trying to prove you belong in the family.
Being mestizo is being 5 shades lighter than your familia, your abuela coming to your birth, and calling you Blancanieve,... Snow White. And I know, deeply within my heart, this was meant as a compliment, but still I think about it as me being a foreigner to my own land.
It's you trying to fit in and showing you want to embrace your heritage while also feeling like a complete impostor.
Its your abuelo, saying you don't have any ounce of Argentinean in you because you don't know about a famous singer in a country you never actually lived in.
It's people asking where you're really from because something is wrong and they're uneasy with you not fitting any box. But what am I supposed to look like for you to be satisfied?
Being mestizo is people thinking your mom left her friends, her family, her degree and her country at 19 years old, because she wanted to be European?!
"Mestizo, término que integra la estratificación social basada en la jerarquía de razas, impuesta en sus colonias en América mediante los Estatutos de limpieza de sangre."
Guess what? My blood isn't dirty, my blood is a testimony from the ancestors who survived enslavement and genocide and refused to give up. My blood is a white flag, a promise and a love story 7000 miles apart.
My face is a painting, a song.
And I love the colors of my ebony brows de india and the highlights of my mane thanks to my dad's honey hair. Every freckle is a note on the caramel stave of my skin. My nose, which I used to hate, is the same as Mama Quilla, Inca goddess of the moon. And when I see it shining every night I remember I am allowed to shine to.
So I refuse to label myself and shrink all the treasures of my heritage to appease you. I refuse to let you fetishize my curves and my culture. I refuse to let you diminish my identity. I am not two halves, I am complete.