Hard

I am surrounded

by hard homegirls. 

Unmothered homegirls.

Abandonded homegirls.

Emotionally neglected homegirls.

Alcoholic mother homegirls.

Abused mother homegirls.

Orphan homegirls.

Single mother, working 24-7, live off of frozen dinner homegirls. 

We were kids. We were brown.

We sucked at school.

We didn’t give a fuck about school.

We were emotional basket cases.

We were emotional iron curtains.

We ended up with abusive men, cheating men, controlling men, no man at all, fathers to the babies we had in high school, women lovers (who treated us bad too), no man at all, good men and women that we have been able to build magical and solid lives with.

Somehow

in the midst of the chaos

we dragged our young and tired souls

to college.

And somehow,

while

mother’s passed away,

and our brothers were murdered,

and we got pregnant during our junior year,

and our families phoned of their eviction and homelessness,

or our parents got deported,

and our sisters went to prison,

and our mom’s called with the latest news of our 55 year-old

father moving out with his girlfriend 

who goes to the same church as us,

Some mother-fucking-how,

we paid our dues

we put a cap and gown on

and we crossed that puto stage

at

UCLA

Occidental College

USC

Cal State LA

East LA College

Mount St. Mary’s (In Brentwood, bitches!)

Los Angeles City College

Phoenix University
Pasadena City College

Cal State Long Beach

National University

Harvard University

Stanford University 

UC Santa Cruz 

fist in the air.

Tears in our eyes,

because we did it!

¡Somos chingonas!

And yes. The day after came.

And we still have to face,

our PTSD,

our tattered lives,

of struggle and perseverance,

but at least,

we’re alive,

at least, we have our degrees,

at least we’re free (and not locked up),

at least we’re substance free,

and our kids are safe and thriving,

at least…

we

are still

here. 

In pieces,

but we’re here,

and we have each other,

hermanas. 

c/s