Maria Guerrero is a proud daughter of immigrant parents and of her Mexican raices. She is a teacher by day and unable poeta at 3am cuando las muses won't let her sleep. Born and raised in Bayview-Hunters Point, and living en la casa de sun padres, she centers her work around familia, comunidad, and healing.
Soy de acullá
Ni de aqui,
Yo no soy de aqui.
This is the third time he's asked
"Where are you from?"
I'm too brown for this güero.
Dije María
en vez, de Maria and
my last name has too many r's.
Soy demasiado para este hombre blanco.
Ni de allá,
Yo no soy de allá.
They look at me kinda funny
when English slips out of my tongue.
As if to say,
"Que chingados haces aqui?"
I'm too American for Mexicans.
There's not enough chile on my food and
I don't always get the jokes.
Soy muy poco para algunos mexicanos.
Ni de acá,
Yo no soy de acá.
I didn't get the memo
that my existence is
a transgression.
Ahora tiene sentido
porque en su diccionario
la única definición
de "queer" es extraño.
Now it makes sense
why I always felt like a stranger in
my own home.
Soy muy extraña para la gente ignorante.
Soy de acullá.
Yo soy de acullá.
I am from the sounds
of the 29-bus line
taking me from Baker Beach
to Paul and Third.
Soy de las historias
que cuentan mis padres
de su niñez en México.
I am from the laughter of
my queer friends as we find safety
in the space we created.
Soy del dulce y picoso sabor
de un mole casero, con ajonjolí tostado.
I am from the cracked concrete
sidewalks of Bayview-Hunters Point,
my first home.
Soy de los colores de la calle 24
as I make my way to la librería,
mi segundo hogar.
I am from the warm embrace of
my loved ones,
the ones who see me for who I am.
Ni muy muy, ni tan tan.
Just me, just enough.
Acullá, una indicación
poco precisa
pero real.
Soy suficiente para ese lugar.