THE COLOR OF MY WRITING
“You do not belong here.” – Jaquira Díaz In my America Earlier this year, as...
“You do not belong here.” – Jaquira Díaz In my America Earlier this year, as...
My Abuelo used to peel them for me— warm brilliant spheres of varying sizes. He’d...
the Cuban bread/the crackers/el cafe/ the crumbs/and the place- mats/the open door/ la reja/the gate/la...
History teaches us that the marginalized always use art as a means of speaking...
Have you repeatedly heard that the people who visit Florence never...
My skin is a tightrope teetering, a tongue captive, chains halting the steps of my ghetto, a scythe, a subway pole chafing the...
Barely 17 years old, and yet I’d fight with anyone who dared To tell me that Spanglish wasn’t A language. Spanglish was...
Coger pique con el celular porque no hay un keyboard en spanglish and I have...
Music is widely considered as the universal language, one that every single person on this...