“¡Juntos pero no revueltos!” Goes the saying. It reminds me of aquellos frijoles con huevos that una tía en el D.F. used to make. Little specs of egg white and yellow yolk with left over refried beans y un poquito de arroz blanco. We sat at the dinner table. We said our prayer. And we ate frijoles con huevos y un poquito de arroz blanco acompañado de un guisado simple. Made with love.
Esos tiempos eran diferentes. I spent most of my time in a three bedroom apartment. Deluxe. De lujo, or so it seemed. Por allá por la parada del metro—estación Cuauhtémoc. Simple days, when going to the movies was a treat and we snuck Coca-Cola in a plastic decanter. Una cantimplora de plástico skinny para que no hiciera bulto y, mas importante, para que no llamara la atención. We walked down the streets of the city mexicana with our skinny decanter and umbrellas in case it rained. Walking toward a treat. El Palacio Chino, I think it’s called. If I remember correctly.
En este lado estamos más revueltos que esos frijoles con huevos y un poquito de arroz, pero nos mantenemos separados en la conciencia. If we closely analyze the situation, we will see that, no matter what color or creed, we are all peleando por ser entendidos. Meanwhile, those who have power over us laugh because we do as they say. They watch our community divide like little tiny cells where only the strong survive. Survival of the fittest, en Darwinian terms, y los que no pueden que coman huevos revueltos y frijoles, si les alcanza.
Thoughts go through my mind. And, I see a united community where it doesn’t matter what god you believe in or who’s hand you’re holding. Una comunidad unida. Todos revueltos. That is my American dream. A diversity. A democracy. Con voces representadas. Everyone represented. Equally.
But what if dreams don’t come true? Me quedare cambiando mi ser un millón de veces para hacer una diferencia (I will remain here changing my Self a million times so that I can make a difference). And what a difference it will be! Un diferente. Una conciencia diferente. The beginning of something new. Un Nuevo.
Estamos más revueltos que juntos. Each one composed of this race and that one. One percent this one three percent that one. Blood is mixed in my veins, yet I know some things should not be measured. I know that I am what I am and I accept that. At least for today. So that I can sleep. So that I can rest. So that I can dream.
Diversity. Que palabra tan tricky. It makes me think that I am included. And, in a way, I am—but only if I prod the definition deeper. Dive down to its core and into the realm of its very essence. Swim like a diver inside its meaning searching for the misrepresented. The forgotten. Los diferentes.
Chronicle of Higher Education