I am from what they call the ghetto.
I grew up in what we call the hood.
I am from where weeds grow into violence,
Where sirens could wake a child up at night
and noise is found in the streets.

I am from the rice and beans,
Where tradition and culture is kneaded into every recipe.
I am from the aroma of tasty cookies tasting like Christmas Eve.
Where family comes together
as one to give thanks for what we have.

I am from the words spoken to me
all the time.
The “school comes first” and
the “just do you”
draining me.
From the “never tell a lie” and
the “don’t talk to strangers.”
I am from my mama’s ways,
the belt and the extension cord
if we misbehaved.

I am from the struggles of this big world.
I am from the roots of a bamboo tree
standing through the strongest of winds.
From where I can survive the biggest of storms.
I am from the have done and will do.
From the I can and will succeed.