@lacroixlines
El Poeta is a queer Latine poet and public health worker on the Southwest side of Chicago.
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Nubes
Poetry and digital art piece.
This piece describes a phone conversation I had with my Peruvian mother. Having grown up as a “no sabo” kid, I fought hard to learn Spanish in adulthood and insisted on speaking Spanish with my mom whenever possible. This conversation was significant for me because I had to find the right words to express myself emotionally. It felt like I was able to connect, for maybe the first time, in a profound way with my mother in her native tongue.
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My mom came to the US in 1990 on a Fulbright scholarship to attend grad school. Her home country of Perú was in a period of increasing political and economic instability due to terrorist attacks and inflation, and it felt impossible to move up in the world during that time. The scholarship allowed her a chance to further her education, after which she planned to return to Perú with a Master’s and start her own company as an engineering consultant. However, while she was at school, she met my dad, and Perú continued to destabilize politically, experiencing a coup shortly after. She decided to continue into a Ph.D. program, then married and settled here permanently.
My family largely exists on two continents: my dad’s family, generations of farmers from rural Iowa, and my mom’s family, who almost all are still in Perú. I didn’t meet most of my Peruvian family until I was 15, didn’t speak Spanish, and felt cut off from much of the culture. At the same time, I was often the only Latino in my school; I felt very different from my peers, and unsure what to say when asked where I was from. I had to figure out for myself what my identity looked like in that intersectionality, how to embrace the traditions from both sides of my family in a way that felt authentic to me.
I moved to Chicago at age 17 and it was a novelty to meet so many other Latinos, to be able to embrace my culture. I feel most at home on the Southwest side, where for the first time in my life, I forget the color of my skin. Here, I am able to carry all the parts of myself – Latine, culturally rural Midwest, queer, artist. I feel emboldened to reclaim the traditions that feel meaningful to me, and form new ones with the community around me.
I have inherited a diverse set of cultures, having family in rural Iowa; Lima, Perú; and now queer community in Chicago. Between the cultural and ideological differences that exist, there are real people caught between historical and political forces, all trying to survive the best they can. I often hear divisive, negative opinions expressed around my communities (particularly rural America), where I feel pulled to advocate for building understanding of and functional relationships with people from other backgrounds. We cannot build solidarity without curiosity and empathy.