If you ask dominant culture America, “How are you today?”
The correct response is, “Fine.”
If you ask a Latino “Como estas hoy?”
The response is, “Allí en la lucha.”*
(I even had a co-worker correct me this morning as I was writing this—I didn’t think I could in honest conscience respond according to rote regulation as I was writing a commentary against it.)
Dominant culture possesses a fatal trait—one that ensures its own demise.
The baton is in her hand
Yet the day is coming when it will be torn out of her hand.
She does not know why she has it, nor to where she is going with it.
It only seems right, that it is in her hand.
Yet it will be ripped from her hand.
Perhaps her hand will be taken as well--still yet cluching
There will be blood.
There will be anguish.
The taste of horrendous defeat will be on her lips.
She will not have chosen this battle.
Life was only good and fair, when it was in her hand.
For with it she could simply say, “I AM.”
She will be incensed at the injustice of having it taken away.
She will demand a reason but none will be given.
Her struggle for her "I am" will begin the day it’s taken away.
On that day, she will begin to drink her daily milk from the cup of la lucha.*
On that day, all will remember--there is only one "I AM"
*la lucha--the fight, the struggle