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Cruzando La Frontera
By Maria Cruz
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The recent high school protests in Los Angeles highlighted the fact that many young people are directly affected by the latest immigration debates. There are millions of young illegal immigrants living in the U.S, and they all have a story to tell. Maria is a student and a correspondent for Youth Radio in Los Angeles. Ten years ago, she came here, like so many, from Mexico. This is her story, in a poem.
Cruzando la frontera, siendo solo una niņa
Sin saber de leyes, sin saber de borders, fronteras.
Disguising myself, pretending to be Alice. I was 10, she was eight.
My hair was cut. To them, I seemed younger. To me, it was just a game. I was
Playing dress up. My dress came off.
I looked too "ethnic."
I needed to look American,
He said.
He said, "Don't sit like that. Put your feet on the seat, cross them, like an Indian."
"Now pretend that you're sleeping.
Don't wake up!
Don't speak!
Don't look up!
Just sit!"
Crossing la frontera,
It was 11:00 p.m. or 12:00 a.m.
I didn't eat anything, I didn't say anything,
I couldn't cry.
I missed my mom, I missed my dad, and my little brother. I hadn't seen them for 3 years.
My sister was my strength. My sister was my partner in crime. We were both illegal, committing a crime.
Didn't even know it.
It was just a game.
I wanted to see mom.
She wanted to see dad.
We wanted our parents.
That was not a crime.
Crossing la frontera
De Tijuana a San Diego.
Ilegales,
Riding in a car with a stranger
Who did not know mom.
She was expecting some money. I was expecting my mom.
I had a Mickey shirt, I had a cute pink hat.
Crossing the border. It was not a crime.
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