Mexico Series

Mexico City by Jheyda McGarrell

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When I get home, I forget which keys open which doors. I will forget the smell that I’ve stained the walls with; I will forget the way the stained glass of my lamp leaves pink shadows on the orange walls. Tomorrow, I will remember. 

This is a memory of a place I hope to meet many times more. This place feels like an ancestral skin that I have to stretch out to fit back into. Mexico City and Mexico itself have a complicated history with its black community. The mestizo culture is unaccepting of those whose mix comes in a variation of blackness. Up until a few years back Mexico as a country did not governmentally acknowledge Afro-Mexicans, or Mexicans of African disaporic descent, as a real part of their community. My relationship with Mexico City is that of a black Chicanx person searching for a sense of belonging in a place where westernization and ancestral roots seem to create a vision of what the future might offer. My own privilege has created within me this complicated notion of comfort and belonging. In this place, I have met several people who perfectly assemble a vision of representation that perfectly suite my dreams I’ve once or still have. I have met beautiful women, with dreams like grains of rice, numerous and nurturing of life. I have met people who face me with shock and stare, what is this being? How can I analyze and fetishize what I do not understand ? How can I decide if this is a Mexican person? 

I do not wish to be understood. I do not wish to understand. I want to embrace and have loved being embraced. 

 I’ve been dreaming of necklaces of snakes.

 They curl around my neck, kiss my chest, and settle between my breasts. I am dreaming, something like dogs that howl even when the moon isn’t out. Every relationship felt like this, a search for a piece that felt it belonged to me, but I did not belong to it. My relationship with Mexico is the psychic dreams that tell me of snakes, wolves, and women who have loved me, the mestizx skin and bones, physical embodiment of its lack of belonging in a demystifyed society. My thought when I woke up from this dream is that I hope I can keep living and meeting this place many times more.

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poems by jheyda , click to enlarge