Myth of Stereotypes

No one can express you English
in my tongue
My tongue already speaks, but does it talk
what Amerikans say is real English?
With consonants and vowels
all over like fish in oxygen swimming in my throat
to spit the first "right accent"
so behind blue Atlantic eyes and even my own kind
wouldn’t be laughter.
To choke the arteries of my derived heart from believing
I can feel you
to then speak you
English.

I am that Mexican that Amerikans finger point illegal immigrants.
Welcome to Mexico!
Where all they make is tacos in Taco bell restaurants
Where women wear hoop earrings,
eat with a wooden spoon
and have their hair pulled back with a part in the middle.
It’s a place where men lean against a cactus when they sleep,
with a sombrero pulled over their eyes and the truth under their sleeves.

Stereotypes

No one in their right minds would sleep against a cactus.
Are you trying to say right minds are not placed in different cultures
other than you own?

I wish you’d realize
If you were so quick to judge the immigrants,
the Indians should’ve been quick to judge the pilgrims.

I firmly hold on to these words
as this poem crawls all over me.

I am that Puerto Rican that Amerikans call Goya beans
Spick!
I am That Chinese that’s mistaken with karate kicks
slanted eyes and shrimp fried rice

Amerika!

I don’t want to go to public doors to read you poetry
If I’m going to be mistaken with waitresses.
Not that there is something wrong with that,
But it is wrong that your T.V shows show that is all we can be.
This tears in me like the visa that was ripped in my face
because it said I had a place, again because it said I had a PLACE in Amerika

English, you make me feel I can leave the Island.
I can travel as far as any human
but if I’m Latina the island travels with me,
with hoops earrings and Boricua flags
that try to cover my beaten sorrow with its pride
when it's not really there.

I’m Latina
I’m supposed to kiss any man that comes to me nicely
and if I don’t give a passionate response back
English
Amerika would give me a remark back that we’re suppose to mature early
leave my childish thoughts for their intruding satisfactions.

Yo soy Boricua pa' que tu lo sepa! Hey yo, soy boricual pa' que tu lo sepa'!

Supposed to mean I’m in danger of ending up a welfare mother
on the Jerry Springer Show
Reaffirming the myth of us as a sexual firebrand
We are seen as if getting on our knees were the only thing we understood.

Stereotypes!

I’m that dumb white chick that can’t dance and must be rich.
I’m that loud black girl that screams at the movie screen speaking Ebonics.
I am that dummy in a can.

English,
translate the Dutch,
the same way,
so we can really understand what Anne Frank meant
When she discovered the same eyes loathing between gravity
Same tongues spitting at dreams in reality
having animosity for the mystery of equality
that no one knows there is no mystery
there is just English and learning it.
Spanish and I walk together as one
Never forgetting you, English,
‘cause without you
I wouldn’t survive the drama of the American persona
and Spanish wouldn’t think I’m cool.

I’m an Amerikan-Latina tool
for learning English in red and blue lines
and having Spanish strip from my internal seed.
English
Blue lines nurture me
While a Latina womb gave me birth
You are the reason I’m here
You made me survive the
Myth
of stereotypes.

By Denisse Cotto-Reyes AKA Poet Nissy