Fourth Generation Chicana Unicorn
Words by Angela Acosta | Art by Elsa Monnier
I may not put up an altar,
but every Día de los muertos
I pay my respects to my family tree.
Mi árbol genealógico se compone de
historias de colonizadores y colonizados,
de la revolución mexicana and World War II,
de guerras, amores y grandes misterios.
We come from nine countries
across two oceans,
with last names and stories
mispronounced and misspoke over the years.
My last name might have made its way over the Andes,
the records and memories are lost, but we
crossed through México and Ciudad Juárez
until we found a home in California then Florida.
As a fourth generation Chicana unicorn,
I have much to learn of my own heritage.
I finally pronounce mi apellido in Spanish,
I try foods and learn recipes,
savoring impressions of countries and cultures
not of my birth but of our collective past.
I dedicate my education,
my B.A. degrees in English and Spanish,
my M.A. in Spanish and impending Ph.D.
A todas las poetisas malentendidas de la historia
que ahora habitan en nosotras.
A mi tatarabuela, licenciada en filosofía en México,
quien guardó sus libros en un estante durante toda la vida,
A mi bisabuela a quien tuve el placer de conocer,
quien recordamos en el centenario de su nacimiento en enero de 2021.
A few photographs and an embroidered handkerchief remain,
but we still carry their names with us.
I owe my Spanish fluency
To the older generations whose teachers tried to anglicize their tongues,
but the mother tongue bond was too strong,
To my maestros and profes for helping me
figure out verb conjugations and borrow an accent
by reaching far back into my family genes,
and to my English-speaking parents for letting me follow this path.
I dedicate everything I am
to everyone I have ever been.
I may not look or speak like mis muertos and mi familia,
but I teach como instructora to honor their memories,
to help those of us four-five-six times removed
from our ancestors yet never far from
our own type of Chicana unicorn magic.