beyond the green: collective of middlebury voices

a student-run publication that seeks to provide space for voices that are not being heard on our campus. we are grounded by politics that are radical, anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-classist, anti-homophobic, anti-ableist, and anti-transphobic (against all forms of oppression) and that reject the structural neo-liberal paradigm that characterizes middlebury college and its official publications

2nd generation

by: Jeanette Cortez


2nd generation

I am so many things

Like any good artist, I take in my surroundings
And my surroundings are 102 and Anzac right behind the Baptist church and Jordan Downs

I am 10 minutes North of Compton

I am 10 minutes East of Inglewood

I am Watts

I am its towers

made of recycled goods,

But still good to admire


But I am also still the ghetto

I hate that word but it’s who I be

It’s what I speak when I want to see me

For whom I am, it’s what I am

I can’t help but want to be who it is that I am


I am brown as well

I dig up all the pennies you threw down in a well

And make myself a bed

Even if it’s one full of nails

And I never like to tell my story

Because there’s too many to tell


My father worked in restaurants

He managed gardens

He put up gates

My mother cooked and cleaned the house

And when we got sick she stayed up late

She made us ointments and fed us tea

She took us to church and

Made us pray on our knees and still


I am ignorant

I had to build and cross that bridge when it wasn’t necessary for you

I had to tape shit together when you were given glue

You learned to ride a bicycle while I made and cleaned your shoes

And when you started crying I was your nanny too

When you craved more land, you raped my women through

And when I came back home, you deported my brother even though he was a father of two


I am the grime on your boot that pollinates your flowers

I am the mass that squeezes taxes out of you but pays for your products

I cut you open; you throw me through glass windows and kick me in the face

You are what I must should strive to be,

I am your disgrace

Your barbies tell me I’m ugly

Your music tells me to grind

My culture and poverty claims you’re a tyrant

I say we’re both misunderstood guys

With you I swallow my sadness

I hide the person my city raised

I am stubborn, committed, brilliant, and wild

So why do you make me feel so ashamed?


This entry was posted on April 23, 2014 by in Uncategorized.
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