I am from rugs with car tracks,

with toys stolen from my brothers’ collection.

I am from townhouses in central New Jersey,

filled with those we call Senior citizens and noncitizens.

I am from ratty panda bears lined up against my bedroom wall:

Pandy, Bamboo, Strawberry, and Jane.

I am from natural wit and intimidating looks,

with a side of “remembering the Lord daily.”

I am from gallo pinto and with grilled cheese,

yet I can never decide which I like better.

I am from green grasses cut by landscapers,

from the pink hues my mother told me not to wear.

I am from “a girl can be anything she wants,”

although I’m still trying to convince my sister so.

I am from the Spanish version of “when in doubt, get out,”

and realizing that I have always been more “fight” than “flight.”

I am from Sister Lisa repeating “be not afraid”

and I think I’m finally starting to understand.

I am from New Jersey,

although it hardly feels that way.

I am from places once painted grey,

now filled to the brim with golds and reds.

I am from those moments where I stood in crossfires,

when I could have stayed in sidelines.