¿A cuanto el boleto? How much for the ticket? |
Issue 12
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How much will I pay for a bit of space to stretch my arms?
To reach for a mirror that reflects the truth of who I am. To finally feel home. I’ll hop on any plane to chase Her. Freedom’s long shiny hair can’t grow here. Her silk skin too soft to shield the rocks lunged at her. Can I bear being an intruder to my own home? My house is flat and chiseled in ways that make me ache. Every pore on my skin itches, but I’ll scratch once I’m gone. When their son dies, How much of my mom’s sparkly, contagious optimism will fade? How much damage will my dad’s liver take? My education is worth it, in all our eyes. I’ll get the degree my mom was told she was too woman for. I’ll change the world with my innovation. I’ll be forever grateful/guilty for finally feeling free. Hard work will be stolen, and my hope will be delusion. They’ll pass down the sweat and sacrifice of generations for me. How much will all my hospitalizations cost? How much stress will change a heart? Every doctor will tell me to relax but never explain how. My grandma’s dementia will turn her brain to swiss cheese. We won’t be able to send money to provide her warm meals and loving hands. And so, my family’s wails will cross every border too. ¿A cuanto el boleto? How much for the plane ticket? College textbooks can’t compare. How much does it cost to dream? Blood, sweat, and tears Won’t be enough for even half the fare. |
Xochitl Zazueta is a trans Latina from south Texas. Her transition from a Mexican bordertown to university has completely challenged her perception of the world. Her art across different media reflects the juxtaposition of immigrant hopes and fears in the U.S., a yearning for humanization, and the strength she finds in a rich cultural history.
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