El Grito

My brown skin is my mark, my reason for being here.
The mark of thousands of years of oppression, slavery, rape, genocide.
People have tried to wipe out my heritage. My existence is a revolution.

Columbus came and fucked us hard. The little island called Borinken was soon renamed to a bastard word called “Port-o-Rico.” Puerto Rico. The island of riches, the island of culture, the island that was contaminated.

My ancestors were Taino Indians.
My ancestors were enslaved. My ancestors wore chains. My ancestors were raped.
My ancestors fought back.

Revolution.
Uprising.
Grito de Lares and bloodshed and independence.
My people cried out battle songs for freedom and the right to choose.

Lolita Lebron. Pedro Albizu Campos. Betances and Belvis. Filiberto.
Freedom from oppression.

Racism.

The first forms of the birth control pill were tested on low-income Puerto Rican women without their consent.
Sterilization without their consent.
Violated without their consent.
Consent was non-existent.

I am still here. The island is still here. We are still here.
We have not given up.
We are waiting.
Watching.
Listening.
Singing.
Celebrating.

We are here despite the genocide. We are here.
I am here. I fight for them.

My history is my present.
My past is my today.
My tomorrow is liberacion.

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