I'm Puerto Rican Poem

I’m Puerto Rican.
I’m not Je-lo, not sweet caramel skin or flowing auburn locks.

I’m sitting in a classroom being told I’m not really Latina.

I’m surprised looks and awed stares when the mother tongue blossoms from between my lips, swirls on my tongue.

I’m not Mexican, not Chicana, I have no Aztec roots.

I’m a specific type of albinism camouflaging a diverse type of flavor.

I’m questions to my ancestry, doubts to the purity of my blood.

I’m being asked where my mother is from and then being asked where my father is from
because one of them must not be Hispanic.

I’m a spinning wheel of ethnicities being constantly assaulted by darts flying from strange hands.

I’m not Nuyorican, not English first and Spanish later, if ever at all.

I’m Puerto Rican.
I’m ‘arroz con habichuelas y pasteles’.

I’m salsa, merengue y bachata playing in the background.

I’m ‘if you don’t celebrate it, we will’.

I’m ‘my pueblo is better than yours and we will argue about it.’

I’m Loren Mary Ortiz Torres and refusing to butcher or hyphen my name for your
convenience.

I’m not a race but a beautiful collage.

I’m Puerto Rican.
I’m more than my nationality, but I will never be less.