I carry history in my hair Generations of thick tangled tresses Colored with shame at the roots stripped, dyed, burned, fried trying unsuccessfully to alter its DNA. Since birth, my hair has danced violently to a beat of its own Tautly twined coils stretched like the goatskin that cover djembe drums each lock relentlessly rebelling, defiant like sugar cane trying to make its way through concrete … Continue reading Roots
Syncopated rhythms over conga beats, I saunter in the footprints of men and women of generations passed. Dissecting myself a cadaver, open and free. From the bomba y la plena, from the sugar cane factories to the bench of the Supreme Court, we… have come a long way. Having studied many times The marble which was chiseled out for me— By the calloused hands of … Continue reading Poem:: Not My Mother’s Daughter
I wear my heritage proudly, it is the essence of my being It’s in my tanned skinned, curly hair, and all that is visible to the naked eye It is also in my speech, and in the way the words roll off my tongue It’s in the way she says “que dios te bendiga niña” when I ask for her bendicion It’s in the … Continue reading This Is Me…
nancy arroyo ruffin 