by Kayelina Publico

Your question corners me

Like a golf ball to the throat, like an important and dumb text left on read, like my left leg doesn’t know how to sit still like why do I need to answer this but

Your question has cornered me

“Where are you from?”

You want to know where I’m from?

Well, where I come from

We don’t ask these kinds of questions, cause most of the people, where I come from look like me, mixed and confused, so forgive me if your question catches my guard off

But if you must know

Where I come from

Like I said, people look like me, talk like me, don’t question other ethnicities like me, cause every other person on their block is starting to become just as mixed as me

Where I come from is

A generation of dank memes, crappy celebrities, and voices louder than the catastrophes that surround them and attempt to swallow their creativity

Where I come from

No one questions your braless torso, no one lets a day go by without their streak going unsnapped, and no one lets their fellow women say #metoo all by herself like that

Where I come from

No one shuts the hell up. We’re too busy working minimum wage, holding protest signs at the local parks on our breaks, while trying to figure out how to get an insurance plan at a job we hate

Where I come from

Is a Twitter war over something stupid, like is the dress blue or gold, like Johnny sent a dick pic to the entire school, but Johnny got a scholarship to Yale so it’s neither here nor there

Where I come from

Our voices are hoarse from screaming yet the big man don’t care so we continue to fight for where we came from, which is this country, built on war, immigrants, and ignorance and hoarse voices just fighting for something they knew in their gut was right

But that doesn’t answer your question

You asked, “Where do you come from?

Where are you from?”

So I’ll be less vague because

Somehow I am still in a corner

Somehow I am still a minority—

I mean, I meant to say


Where I come from

Ohana means family yet my family is getting left behind and forgotten through usurped monarchies, dying cultures, and big, fat white strangers that feel the need to ask me,

“Can you go back to where you came from?”