Jo Whitehorse Cochran nació en 1958 en Estados Unidos, en una familia descendiente de pueblos originarios lakota y salish. Además de poesía ha publicado ensayos sobre asuntos de género.
Actualmente se desempeña como profesora en la univerdidad de Klamath, Oregon, en el área de Arte, Lengua y Comunicación.
NIÑA MESTIZA EN LA ESCUELA DE LA CIUDAD
sos mejicana?
sos italiana?
sos china?
sos japonesa?
sudaca espalda-mojada bola-de-grasa ojiachinada *
sos lo bastante oscura como para cuestionárselo
lo bastante clara como para preguntarlo
sos morocha de ojos pardos
y hablás un inglés lerdo
nosotras somos rubias de ojos azules
usamos polleras pulóveres o pantalones de marca
vos usás ropa sin estilo hecha en casa
giramos alrededor tuyo y de tu hermana
la abrazás fuerte ella es pequeña
y aún más oscura
pateamos tironeamos de las trenzas y los abrigos
hacemos que salga tu «¡Yo soy india!»
la asistente social quiere
que describas a tu familia
pregunta
tu padre te golpea?
tu madre lo hace?
tu padre bebe?
tu madre lo hace?
odiás a tus padres?
llorás?
decime decime
te gusta más la reserva?
no te da vergüenza orinarte en clase?
por qué no hablás?
por qué no pedís permiso?
por qué no vas en el recreo?
decime decime hablá!
fijás la vista a través de la ventana
haciendo girar un abecedario entre las manos
hablá en inglés hablá en inglés
grazna la asistente social
afuera unos gansos canadienses atraviesan el cielo
seis en un arco yendo hacia el sur
si te tranformaras como Star Boy
podrías volar con esos cuelloslargos
pero debés quedarte y mirar por la ventana
las palabras de la abuela retumban en tu cabeza
quieren despojarnos de nuestras palabras
quieren llevarse nuestras lenguas
para que olvidemos cómo hablar unos con otros
tragás la roca
que era tu lengua
tragás la canción
que era tu voz
tragás tragás
en el silencio.
* En esta secuencia de expresiones racistas, el equivalente castellano más aproximado a spic —término despectivo hacia los inmigrantes “hispanos" provenientes de América latina, que inicia el verso—, sería el despreciativo sudaca utilizado en España con sentido similar. Espalda mojada (wetback) se aplica a los inmigrantes que entran de forma ilegal a Estados Unidos, empapados en sudor tras caminar por el desierto de la frontera con México.
Este poema (“Halfbreed Girl at the City School”) se incluye en la antología Dancing on the Rim of the World, An Anthology of Contemporary Northwest Native American Writing, de Andrea Lerner, Universidad de Arizona, 1990.
Halfbreed Girl in the City School
are you Mexican
are you Italian
are you Chinese
are you Japanese
spic wetback greaseball slant-eye
you are dark enough to question
you are light enough to ask
you have near black hair brown eyes
and speak slow-english
we are blonde blue eyed
and wear store bought sweaters skirts or pants
you wear homemade clothes out of style
we circle round you and your sister
you hug your sister close she's small and even darker
we kick we tug at braids and coats
we pull "I'm Indian!" out of you
the social worker wants
you to describe your family
she asks
does your father beat you
does your mother
does your father drink
does your mother
do you hate your parents
do you cry
tell me tell me do you
like the reservation better
are you ashamed in the classroom
when you wet your pants
why don't you speak up
why don't you get excused
why don't you go at recess
tell me tell me speak!
you stare out the window
turn an alphabet block in your hand
speak english speak english
the social worker caws
outside Canadian geese pass through your immediate sky
six in an arc going south
if you were a Changer like Star Boy
you could fly with those long-necks
but you must stay and look out this window
Grandma's words pound in your head
they want to strip us of our words
they want to take our tongues
so we forget how to talk to each other
you swallow the rock
that was your tongue
you swallow the song
that was your voice
you swallow you swallow
in the silence
Extermination of a Nation
hope remains
as the sun rises
and the rays
fall on this earth
for another day
and the light fades
and hope remains
for the rising of the sun again
and when the westerners came
the white men
thieves in the night
taking with one hand
and holding with the other
raping, tormenting and killing
the men and women he should have known
as his sister and his brother
killing for the land
which he has raped and destroyed
concept of unity
of which he is devoid
destruction and disregard
for the plants, the animals and the earth
this place of his birth
and in his consciousness he knows
and within his soul the disharmony grows
out of balance with the four elements
now his decedents and his children pay
as this land is ravaged by earthquake and flood
famine and fire
disease, death
and the violent spilling of blood
and as there is light
there is hope
that there is sight
hope that those who have not seen
for so long
will see
and return to a balancing way
for as
voices in song
rise from the center again
the resurrection of the living way
unsung unseen
till now and from the long march in between
from their voices, their souls
and their hearts
their song
it resonates
and the earth
and the universe
knows
and with our hope
the rest of us
join in the song
are you Mexican
are you Italian
are you Chinese
are you Japanese
spic wetback greaseball slant-eye
you are dark enough to question
you are light enough to ask
you have near black hair brown eyes
and speak slow-english
we are blonde blue eyed
and wear store bought sweaters skirts or pants
you wear homemade clothes out of style
we circle round you and your sister
you hug your sister close she's small and even darker
we kick we tug at braids and coats
we pull "I'm Indian!" out of you
the social worker wants
you to describe your family
she asks
does your father beat you
does your mother
does your father drink
does your mother
do you hate your parents
do you cry
tell me tell me do you
like the reservation better
are you ashamed in the classroom
when you wet your pants
why don't you speak up
why don't you get excused
why don't you go at recess
tell me tell me speak!
you stare out the window
turn an alphabet block in your hand
speak english speak english
the social worker caws
outside Canadian geese pass through your immediate sky
six in an arc going south
if you were a Changer like Star Boy
you could fly with those long-necks
but you must stay and look out this window
Grandma's words pound in your head
they want to strip us of our words
they want to take our tongues
so we forget how to talk to each other
you swallow the rock
that was your tongue
you swallow the song
that was your voice
you swallow you swallow
in the silence
Extermination of a Nation
hope remains
as the sun rises
and the rays
fall on this earth
for another day
and the light fades
and hope remains
for the rising of the sun again
and when the westerners came
the white men
thieves in the night
taking with one hand
and holding with the other
raping, tormenting and killing
the men and women he should have known
as his sister and his brother
killing for the land
which he has raped and destroyed
concept of unity
of which he is devoid
destruction and disregard
for the plants, the animals and the earth
this place of his birth
and in his consciousness he knows
and within his soul the disharmony grows
out of balance with the four elements
now his decedents and his children pay
as this land is ravaged by earthquake and flood
famine and fire
disease, death
and the violent spilling of blood
and as there is light
there is hope
that there is sight
hope that those who have not seen
for so long
will see
and return to a balancing way
for as
voices in song
rise from the center again
the resurrection of the living way
unsung unseen
till now and from the long march in between
from their voices, their souls
and their hearts
their song
it resonates
and the earth
and the universe
knows
and with our hope
the rest of us
join in the song
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