Díaz Pérez, Leticia (.)

Poeta y docente nacida en Virginia (EE.UU.). Residió en Asunción y desde 2013 está radicada en Formosa. Escribe en inglés y castellano.

Se graduó en la Universidad de Michigan (BA/English and American Literature y MA/Spanish and Latin American Literature), ciudad donde se crió. Enseñó tanto en niveles universitarios como en el sistema de educación pública de Michigan y de Nueva York.  Forma parte de la antología editada por la Universidad de Arizona (University of Arizona Press) Poetry of Resistance: Voices for Social Justice (2016), una colección de textos seleccionados a partir de la convocatoria lanzada en Facebook bajo el lema "Poets Responding to SB1070 and Xenophobia" (que se oponía a la Ley 1070, también llamada Ley del Odio o Ley contra la inmigración) . 

En Formosa realizó clínicas de poesía con Osvaldo Bossi (Fondo Nacional de las Artes, 2014)

Obra:

• Sugar from the Sky/Azúcar del Cielo (poesía bilingüe, inédito)

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La Guerra Mexicana-Americana/The Mexican-American War

La Guerra Mexicana-Americana

"Mira nena, esos libros de historia que te dan los gringos en la escuela- cuidadoooo! No creas todo lo que lees allí. Cuidado que estos gringos son descendientes directos de piratas. PI-RA-TAS. ¿Entendiste? El capítulo ese sobre la guerra Mexicana-Americana, por ejemplo. Allí no hubo guerra. Allí hubo robo.Los Estados Unidos robó Nuevo Mexico,Arizona, California,Texas, Nevada,Utah y Colorado. Pedíle a tu padre un libro sobre la verdadera historia Mexicana. No quiero que estos ladrones le laven el cerebro a mis hijos . Ellos siempre ponen la historia a su favor. ¡Piratas!"


The Mexican-American War

"Look girl, those history books the gringos give you in school- be careful! Don't believe everything you read in those books. Be careful because these gringos are direct descendants of pirates. PI-RATES. Understand? The chapter on the Mexican-American War, for example.There was no war. It was theft.The United States stole New Mexico, Arizona,Califronia, Texas, Nevada, Utah and Colorado. Ask your father for a book on the true history of Mexico. I don't want these crooks brainwashing my kids. They always write history in their favor. Pirates!"

Telling My Story

Always having to
speak better
dress neater
act politer
lest I be told,
"...go back to where you came from
you no good Mexi-kun
or whatever the ----- you are..."

...telling my story...

Always waiting
to pack up again
get on a train
bus
plane
because I'm no longer wanted here
even though I was born here
and have no place else to go.

...telling my story...

Not wanting any part of the
ASS imilation process
cause' I knew from the
get go that something was
wrong with that whole process.
I knew the day
the teacher sent a note home to my mother,
"...please stop speaking Spanish with you daughter-
it's interfering with her school work..."
Angry,
I blurted out words in class-
didn't want to,
they just slipped.
So the teacher said
"...Letishaaa! Letishaaa,
(and that's not even the way you pronounce my name)
you have to control you mouth..."
She had me wash my mouth out with
soap
in front of all the other kids
to set me straight.

...telling my story...

My mother explained things to me,
"...los gringos son unos tramposos,
se robaron la mitad de Mexico y ahora
se quieren robar nuestra cultura,
but from now on
you have to play by their rules or
they'll kick you out of the game..."

...telling my story...

I learned to play by their rules
speak their language
pass all of their tests
but I clutched onto
my culture
like a mother
who
sensing danger,
clutches onto her newborn.
I knew the only way not to be
erased
deleted
forgotten
silenced
was to tell my story.
So I started telling it-
except I told it all wrong.

...telling my story...

I was supposed to paint
pretty pictures
big immigrant family
making it in America,
land of abundant opportunity.
Instead, I wrote how noboby opened any doors for my parents-
how they had to pry and kick doors open
that were padlocked shut
because we were
south of the border immigrants
not Eastern European immigrants
running from communism,
in fact my parents had nothing against communism
and boy did that piss the gringos off,
"...then go to Russsia..." they said.
No, I'm not going to Russisa
because this is my country,
and so I stayed...

And stayed
and stayed-
told my story
the way I wanted to tell it,
not the way they wanted me to tell it-
and I watched those doors slam shut
one by one
like dominoes falling one on top of the other.
They say
bar soap is a luxury item in communist countries.
In the "free" world
freedom of speech
is a luxury item
reserved for those
who tell the official story.

Well, let the journalists tell the
official story!
Let them
sell out,
they're good at that,
always were-
not me,
not here
not now
not ever.
I'm not wanting any part of the vendida thing,
no thank you.
I'm too hungry for that-
hungry for the truth-
hungry to tell it like it is:
that we are Latinos
and Latinos are from Latin America
and Latin America is supposed to be a colony of the United States
so Latinos are supposed to be like little colonies
to be used for cheap labor
used for votes to win elections
used for immigrant- bashing purposes
used for statistics
used for percentages-
percentages of Latinos in prison
percentages of Latinos on drugs
percentages of Latinos with HIV
percentages of Latinos in the U.S. " illegally"
percentages
percentages
percentages-
well, I am NOT a statistic
and I am not here for their entertainment either.
I will not sing or dance for the gringos
"...por la plata baila el monito..."
and I'm NOBODY"S monito.

...telling my story...

But hey, here I am...
still living
still writing
still telling my story-
because if I don't tell it
somebody else will-
most likely a gringo
or some sell out (same thing)
who proclaims himself an expert on Latino culture.
He'll write a best-seller about Latinos
and tell it the way the gringos want to hear it.
So before that happens,
I'm planning on telling it-
my story,
my way.


...telling my story..