1 minute read
ESTEFANIA DUARTE
IS A 12TH GRADE STUDENT AT HTH SHE SHOWCASES A POWERFUL POEM THAT TOUCHES ON THE PRESPECTIVES OF OTHERS INTO HER WORLD AND THE WAY SHE GREW UP
Where I’m from, gangbangers have thoughts and emotions, not just bad reputations. They’re friends and family.
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Where I’m From
Because they like the slang I use and the way I dress they always ask me where I’m from.
Where I’m from, respect and loyalty come before money and clout.
Where I’m from, Friday smells like carne asada and sounds like La Chona.
Where I’m from, people aren’t scared of pitbulls. We treat them with care because we know what it feels for people to judge the way you look.
Where I’m from, spent spray cans lay on the sidewalk beneath the words and numbers written on the wall. We call it art.
Where I’m from, tattoos aren’t seen as unprofessional. We see them as history on your skin.
Where I’m from, the police don't seem to like us. They let kids die and blame it on the child.
Where I’m from, teenagers get shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Where I’m from, we ’ re used to bad things happening to us. We don't cry or complain, we move on and wish for better days.
Where I’m from, we watch as tall buildings replace our homes. They want us out so they can make luxury apartments for ‘better’ families to live in. What they view as a piece of land, I view as a safe space, my home.
They can't see how the murals of Aztec warriors and workers, peacemakers and ass-kickers follow me home to make sure I arrive safely
They can't see the yellow street lights stand tall above me wrapping it with their light when it gets dark.
They can’t see it or they refuse to see it. Either way, I will show them where I’m from.
