the unwanted

rant/reworked spoken word piece. pretty long but i really needed to get it off my chest.

I'm here to ask for your help,
I've never been good at this-
but please help me.

Help me explain this to my mother.
I'm begging you,
enlighten me.
Give me the words I need
to make the woman that made me breathe
feel that every drop of sweat
which has left her face in the last twenty years
has not been wasted.
Lost on a future
that is obssesed with the past.
Help me explain to my mother,
that if my little brother had been born in Arizona today,
he would never have gotten the opportunity
to become make it to a university.
He would have never grown
to chase the chance of being a senator.
That she would be illegal.
A number. A criminal. The unwanted.
Elvis Amaya and Brian Amaya,
anchor babies.
Different.
So goddamn different from you.

I'm fucking serious.
Help me.

Because I have never been ashamed
of what I am,
American.
Born free.
Child of Los Angeles.
California dreamer.
Son of immigrants.
Brother to Goliath.
And self proclaimed preacher
to the Holy Church of my Mother's Struggle.
So tell me, how do I defend
your right to believe and say what you want
when what you want
is for my family to disappear.
How do I defend the right for a political party
to voice their opinon,
when they support a law
that makes it acceptable for the police state
to ask for someone's papers based on their looks.
But a month ago they were going apeshit,
throwing bricks at those they labeled nazis.
That alone should blow minds
inside out like pop-
corn.

My father was sent back.
He's dead now.
Throat sliced,
leaking regrets.
My sister is in El Salvador.
She has never hugged my
mother. My mom has never kissed
her only grandchild on the cheek.
So what do I tell her?
That it's just the way things are?
That she has to choose between
being here with my brother and myself
or never seeing her grandson
and own daughter again?
I refuse to allow that logic to exist.
I'm here to say help me.
Because, I'm out of answers,
I'm done defending a country
with a need for sharpshooters
with more bullets
than heartbeats.
I was not born
to be labeled an anchor baby,
and you will never,
ever,
be able to weigh me down.
Don't feed me your bullshit,
because I don't speak with an accent,
or because you believe I'm "smart",
because those people you want to ship away,
those people were me and my family at one point.
Living on welfare. Sons of an alcoholic father.
Learning English. A crazy little spanish kid
running around in diapers. That was me at one point.
So don't be so quick to decide who I am.

When word reached small towns
that the nazis were eliminating jews
they said,
"We live in a civilized era,
people would never allow such attrocities."
I'm not saying we are seeing a holocaust.
I'm just saying,
be aware.
Don't forget what we are willing to fight for.
A chance at Life.
A dream. And for each other,
believe me when I promise you
that I will always stand here,
catch a buck fifty the size a burning cross
and still spit love at your head
like gnats on a summer day.