By Xesenia Schrepfer
Four walls, one open room, a kitchenette and bathroom
Six people, one bed and one couch
This was the place I called home.
A studio apartment surrounded by towering town houses.
In a “up and coming neighborhood”, Uptown,
famed for being a historic district, but also overrun by violence.
This is the neighborhood I called home.
So diverse, but also so segregated and gentrified.
But back to me the middle-aged girl who had no care about the world.
The little girl who sat in-class dreaming
Of the flavorful dinner waiting for me at home.
The arroz con gandules, the smells of adobo and sazon that filled the air,
The sopa de salchichon that made my belly full of joy.
The little girl who thought she was proud of her Hispanic culture,
But also blinded by the impact of her labels from society.
Xesenia, the girl with skin like cream and eyes like the aurora with long wavy hair
“That’s a unique name, what does it mean? where is it from?”
My response: “it’s like Yesenia, but with an X”
To their disbelief “but you’re not Spanish?”
A conversation I knew too well. The color of my skin branded me.
See in Uptown I fit in, but I also stood out.
I was categorized as the same individuals who lived on Lake Shore Drive,
That clutched to their belongings when people of color walked by,
Who stuck up their noses to the homeless.
But that was not me, and no matter how hard
I tried to stand out they sat me down.
They pleaded that I was not a minority, I could not be one of the oppressed
Because… the color of my skin was fair.
A few years past, and I become more aware of my privilege
I am not followed around the store like my friends are,
I could be short on change and be sent on my way, the list goes on and on.
“Welcome aboard Red Line train #7914 North Bound to Howard”
*Ding ding ding* “Doors closing. Next Stop is Wilson…
In the direction of travel doors will open on the right.”
I was no stranger to public transportation
I can see the fear on some individuals faces as
A middle-aged girl rides the train by herself “Is he bothering you?
If you don’t feel safe you can sit next to me. are you okay?”
All these questions because a homeless man of color know sat next to me.
But I knew him. His appearance triggered others
They thought I was at risk, but I couldn’t be any safer.
As I grew older the violence became more apparent.
Lack of adequate customer service, lack of safety, lack of a voice.
The opportunities to stride forward and beyond the restraints were less available.
A harsh winter resulted in an emergency room visit,
After waiting for what felt like an eternity, I was given a room
“It’s just a cough, give her some over the counter cough medicine.
she’ll be fine” the nurse Said to my mother.
Defeated we go home, apply the Vicks and wait to fall asleep
We return the next day in worse shape. But something was different this time.
The paper read “Race, please circle one.” The list read, White/Caucasian,
African American, Hispanic/Latino, Asian.” My mother circled the “wrong” one.
This is when my mask was apparent.
My fever was high, my breathing shallow, my cough worse than before
I didn’t wait long this time, the nurse tripled check on me
“Your daughter is having complications with Asthma,
Her lungs are inflamed, but the treatment should help open her airways,
you should have brought her in sooner…”
I could see my mother’s blood practically boil when the words
Fell from the nurse’s lips. She simply nodded,
And I returned home with a speedy recovery.
My mother had applied the mask for me.
I, unknowledgeable at the time, signed up for what felt like a false persona
On that night I was given my “White Card”.
The key to the gates that unlocked more
Opportunities in my “up and coming” neighborhood.
My mother paved this wrongful way out.
She set me on the path that everyone believed I was already living.
Not oppressed. Not a minority. Not a person who has to fight for a voice.
It took longer to remove the mask than it did to put it on.
The rebirth of the island in me was breath taking.
My eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea,
My hair flowing like the waterfalls in the rainforest with the scent of fresh coconut,
My smile as bright and white as the sandy beaches,
the rhythm of the congas that synced with the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Xesenia, the girl with skin like cream and eyes like the aurora; the girl who is proud of the island in me.
xschrepfer@my.dom.edu
