Untitled – (non-fiction)

By Elena Hernandez

Write?-What is there to write? About the anxiety that paralyzed my mother’s face one nerve at a time, as she lay on the hospital bed? Those minutes that I took for myself to sob in the lobby, because I knew she had no health insurance nor did she qualify for Medi-Cal? I wondered if the nurses were used to it. I felt like I was borderline hysterical, but I could still hear the television overhead and their tantalizing chisme.

Should I tell you about that second (possibly two), during which money took precedence over my mother’s health? In retrospect, I realize that I’m not at fault for this utter confusion in priority. But also in retrospect, I’d like to say “fuck you.” That is all. Just a quick “chinga TU madre,” to those factors that contributed to the mess that was taking place upstairs, en mi cabezita. You see, my mother is not a burden on society. In fact, days after being hospitalized she walked straight back to work. Back to serving others in need. There she hovers over you, as the doctor gets rid of that pesky cyst in your eye. The fresh and clean eye that will let you see right to the valor of our community. A strength that stems right from our immigrant parents.

The reason why we chose to fight and press forward as undocumented students, graduates, and/or DREAMers, is because we ourselves get to witness the first seed of resistance. A seed that blossoms from the moment our parents leave their country of origin, escaping toxic agents of poverty, corruption, and violence. We live right through this first magic of perseverance and ganas. And what some law-abiding citizens don’t seem to understand..is that..you don’t mess with ganas. It will climb right up any wall (pun surely intended), and beware lest you recognize…DREAMers have ganas.

Elena Hernandez, a California State University, Fullerton, English graduate. Currently involved with DeColores Queer Orange County and the Orange County Dream Team.

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