to escape a revolution, but now a civil war
rages all around me
as I walk into the White House
at President Lincoln’s request.
He wants me to play a concert for his family
because he heard that I am called the Piano Girl.
I’m only ten years old, but performing
for Abraham Lincoln
helps me feel
winged.
SHOUTING!
RAMÓN EMETERIO BETANCES
New York, 1869
As a doctor, I’m dedicated to the battle
against cholera on my home island
of Puerto Rico, but I’m also determined
to end Spain’s cruel colonial rule,
which still
allows slavery.
So I’m exiled, forced to flee, and now I live here
in New York City, where the success of the abolitionist cause
in this country gives me renewed strength to shout, protesting
injustice on the islands, keeping the plight
of enslaved people
in my heart.
EXCLUDED
PABLO DE LA GUERRA
California, 1870
Even though I’ve held many public offices,
now I’m eliminated from elections on the basis
of race.
So I hire a lawyer who proves my US citizenship,
but he can’t convince the courts that I look
“white enough” to vote, run for office, or even
own land.
My proud brown skin color from indios
in my Mexican ancestry
will determine my future—a voiceless life
in this atmosphere of governmental
arrogance, unless the laws
are changed, and then
enforced.
LANGUAGE
LUISA
Colorado, 1870
I was born here, as were my parents,
and their parents, on and on for centuries.
Some of my ancestors were mexicanos,
others Cheyenne and Ute.
Now, suddenly, a man named Fred Walsen moves
into our little town, builds a brick house, and starts
to complain, saying no one in the town of Los Leones
should think of this place as anything other
than Walsenburg.
So we call him el Fred.
Doesn’t he realize that English
is the newcomer
in our Spanish-speaking
tierra/land?
A LEADER
FERNANDITO
New York, 1880
Our grown-up neighbor is José Martí,
a man Papi admires for writing poetry.
He’s a teacher, too, and a friend,
when he walks with us in Central Park,
teaching us the names of trees and flowers.
The poet tells us tales of elephants
and other wondrous creatures!
He encourages us to write our own stories
and verses, about anything that strikes us
as marvelous.
Someday, he promises, we’ll all go back
to the island where we were born—someday,
when Cuba finally gains independence from Spain,
and los esclavos are set free—just like enslaved people
here in the US.
•
Someday, our island’s future
will be as powerful
as an elephant,
because souls, the poet
assures us, have no color,
and shared hopes can rise up
to soar across any ocean
or border.
RANGE WARS
FÉLIX
New Mexico, 1890
We wear white hats, white capes, white masks,
as we ride through the night, cutting
barbed-wire fences.
We’re careful never to hurt anyone.
All we want is open pasture for our livestock,
because we were here long before these new
fence-loving ranchers arrived.
Maybe we’ll switch to elections as a path
toward preserving our traditional way of life.
How many local voters would support us
if we ran for seats in the Territorial Legislature?
Nearly all! We win!
Now we can show our faces in daylight,
unmasked!
CHANGING THE WORLD WITH WORDS
FERNANDITO
New York, 1898
Three years ago,
the sad news arrived
on a jungle battlefield in Cuba,
fighting for independence
from Spain.
So now, when I learn that the island’s war
has ended with a horrifying betrayal
by the US—seizure not only of Cuba,
but of Puerto Rico, too—I remember
everything the brave poet taught me
about liberty, and I start to write
poetry of my own,
verses that protest
my adopted country’s
policy of expansion—always
grabbing land, and more land—as if all the many
nations of North, Central, and South America
as well as the Caribbean islands
are meant to be possessions
of the US, instead of independent
countries.
In the shadow
of the Statue of Liberty,
I write about freedom
for everyone,
not just
us.
SO CLOSE
CATALINA
Puerto Rico, 1898
Spain had just granted
our independence
when the US
claimed our island
as their territory.
We were almost free!
Now what will happen
to our children,
our future?
PART FIVE
¡SÍ SE PUEDE!
YES, WE CAN!
FIGHTING FOR JUSTICE AND INCLUSION
The twentieth century brought complex problems that were faced with ingenuity.
Education, work, economic mobility, legal rights, identity, and discrimination—there were many challenges and questions to be answered.
Empathy and compassion fueled powerful social justice movements.
DANGEROUS WORK
SANTIAGO
Montana, 1900
When I visit my family in Mexico,
neighbors hear that I earn three dollars each day
in dark mines, instead of a few cents in sunny fields.
After I return to my job in the north, a cousin
tries to follow, but he walks across the border
at the wrong time of year, reaching this frozen land
in winter, his feet forever damaged.
Soon, my children back home will be educated,
all because of my sacrifice in this deep,
crumbling tunnel
filled
with
poisonous
fumes.
SO MANY STRANGE FORMS OF DISCRIMINATION
EUGENIO
Arizona, 1904
The courts won’t let me serve on a jury,
just because my surname is Spanish—
but I have my own ideas
about justice.
When a mob raided the orphanage in Clifton,
they attacked nuns and kidnapped children.
The judge ruled that those rioters were just good
citizens, trying to rescue little ones
from the influence of Mexicans.
I don’t see any other way to combat hatred,
so I plan to enroll in law school, even if it means
moving far away a
nd coming back later
with my own powerful form
of influence.
REJECTED
ISABEL GONZÁLEZ
New York, 1904
Detained at Ellis Island. Questioned
in full view of the Statue of Liberty.
Classified as unacceptable! Denied entry.
When the United States seized Puerto Rico
and changed our island’s name to Porto Rico,
we became dependents, but now I’m not allowed
on the mainland, even though my fiancé works here,
and we will soon be married, with a baby.
My court case is the first to ask: Are puertorriqueños
true Americans, or complete foreigners?
Will my child be a US citizen, or an outcast?
The legal decision is confusing. A new name for us
is invented. We are “noncitizen nationals” now,
neither equals
nor free.
ACTIVISM
JOVITA IDÁR
Texas, 1913
Born in Laredo, I witnessed
two lynchings.
Nothing else is the same after you’ve seen
people hanged for no other reason
than Mexican ancestry.
I became a teacher and a journalist,
writing about the brutality
law enforcement, while behaving
like criminals.
Women—educate yourselves!
Men—unite with us to demand justice!
As the first president of the League
of Mexican Women,
I concentrate on trying to provide
the treasure of education for poor children …
•
but my articles about US policies
toward Mexico
infuriate certain Texas Rangers.
When they come to my house
to destroy my printing press,
I stand in the doorway,
refusing
to move.
I already have a new plan—free
kindergarten
for the children
of poor families.
MIS PALABRAS/MY WORDS
LAURA
Puerto Rico, 1909
I’m a teacher who has suddenly been informed
that it’s unacceptable to speak Spanish in our schools
on our own ancestral
isla.
I have no choice but to tell the children about this new
regla.
US rules can change anything they want,
even the island’s official language, but laws
and hearts
are two different things.
At home, everyone continues to speak
and write with
independencia.
THE TRIUMPH OF CHILDREN!
LAURA
Puerto Rico, 1915
¡Los niños son heroes! Children are heroes!
They grew so angry about receiving
poor report cards that instead of switching
to English, they refused to attend school at all,
and now the rule has been changed, with classes
once again conducted in our own español.
Los niños chiquitos, only six or seven years old,
succeeded where teachers and parents failed!
Today, I feel like a student
who has finally
learned
a lesson.
DREAMS OF EQUALITY ON THE BALL FIELD
JOSÉ MÉNDEZ
Missouri, 1916
In Cuba, I was called el diamante negro,
the black diamond—but here, my skin color
prevents me from playing in any major league,
so I pitch for the Kansas City All Nations,
a racially mixed team of blacks, whites,
American Indians, Hawaiians, Japanese,
and Cubans
like me.
Everyone says I’m one of this country’s
best pitchers, and that if things were fair,
I’d make a lot of money, but instead
I’m trapped
in a system
that doesn’t
make sense,
so I pitch
wherever I can,
letting the strength
of my arm
prove my worth.
TWO HOMELANDS
RAFAEL HERNÁNDEZ
New York, 1917
The law about Puerto Rican citizenship
finally changes, but only because
we are needed
as soldiers.
A strange new status
for puertorriqueños
won’t let me vote
but causes me to be drafted
into the Harlem Hellfighters regiment
as a musician, playing to motivate troops
during a horror that so many people call
the Great War
only because it’s huge,
certainly not because it’s worthy
of so many deaths.
“Lamento borincano,” my most famous song,
begins to write itself inside my heart
long before I endure the snowy northern winters
of my peaceful life
here at home
in New York,
so far
from my warm
tropical first home.
Tan lejos.
So distant.
THE GREAT MIGRATION
IGNACIO
Texas, 1918
Terrorized by the wild violence
of a long, desperate revolution in Mexico,
we flee our little village in Jalisco,
leaving all dreams of a normal life
far behind as we cross the vast desert,
perched on top of a dusty train
that overflows with refugees.
When we walk across the bridge
between Ciudad Juárez and El Paso,
we are just one small family
lost in a river of hunger
and wishes.
I never thought my proud mother
would beg, but what choice does she have?
Seeing her dirty, starving, and tearful,
I promise myself that never again
will anyone in my family
starve.
•
We are hard workers!
I’m only twelve, but that is old enough
to follow the harvest, plucking red tomatoes
from twining green vines
that smell
like hope-filled
growth.
FAMILY BRANCHES
PATRICIA
California, 1925
In the Central Valley, we all intermarry,
every farm laborer bringing originality
to his growing family tree—mexicanos,
filipinos, chinos, Bengalis …
With my Sikh father and half-Japanese, half-
Mexican mother, I’m just as American
as this farm’s owner, because he’s
half Swedish Armenian and half
German Russian.
Every year at the Fresno County Fair,
people dance in such varied styles
that the swirls of music
sound like a breeze
in a huge forest
with many leaves.
OUT OF THE SPOTLIGHT
ALFREDO CARLOS BIRABÉN
California, 1931
When I fell in love with the movies,
I left my home in Argentina and arrived
here in Hollywood, eager to play
any challenging role,
but the film studio
changed my name
to Barry Norton,
urging me to pretend
that I am not
&n
bsp; myself.
While movies were silent,
I felt successful, but now
that sound has been added,
my accent prevents me
from being offered
good roles.
So while someone else plays Dracula by day
in a famous English-language version
of the film, I have to wait for night,
the only time when Spanish-speaking
movie crews are allowed to use
the studio.
Any role I play will be powerful,
because
of my authentic
anger.
THE GREAT DEPRESSION
EMILIA CASTAÑEDA
California, 1933
Papi has worked in Los Angeles
for so many years that you would think
he’d be appreciated for his experience
and skill, but instead, just as soon as the economy
weakens and millions of people need work,
my father is suddenly thought of as a thief
who steals some other American’s job.
Will we really be deported?
My brother Francisco and I were born here,
and at school we speak English …
but now we are informed that if we want to stay
in the United States, we must declare ourselves
to be orphans with no living parents, so that we
can be placed in an orphanage, given away
to strangers. When we refuse to deny
that our father is alive,
we’re shoved into a noisy crowd
of other helpless children
at the train station,
all of us forced to travel south
with our parents, going “back”
to Mexico, a country we’ve
never
even
seen.
Why are we being punished?
Our families have never committed
any crime!
WORDS OF PROTEST