Un tributo al sacraficio.

When I was younger it was during Cinco de Mayo parades that I felt proud of my blood, culture,and heritage. En mi vestido folklorico, con liston en mis trenzas, y mi pintalabios rojo. I felt beautiful and powerful. I'm not Mexican, but to them we're all Mexican in Texas. During rehearsals the dancers would chatter away with our similarities, differences, y mejor que todo, el chisme. The rest of the year I just felt that others always used some part of my identity to implicitly insult me. Reminding me that I was always one mistake away para joderlo todo.