A Body For Me
I don’t know how it started I just know that I’m here I’m here in loose pants and looser shirts and even looser sweaters I’m here not in shorts Never in a skirt Never showing my leg Or worse, my stomach I don’t know when it started. I just know I see bodies as competitions. I watch their smaller boobs I watch their better thighs I watch their skinnier waists And suddenly I am plagued with the Intense, Breathtaking, Terrifying realization That I am not them. Therefore I am not enough. I don’t know when it started. I just know that I hate it. I want to smile I want to dress without fear I want to not care about how much skin I show or she shows I want to feel happiness for their love for their bodies I hate that I feel shame That I weaponize their joy to hurt myself That I have so much shame for my body when it’s doing the best it can. When it is cancer free, and can walk, and has no diabetes When it is trying to be the best body that it can be. I don’t know when it started. I just know I want it to end.
Barrio
I used to think Barrio Was a bad word That it meant a bad place Where Hungry Desperate Mean People lived It’s where I lived, It’s where I grew So that means part of me is bad too It means neighborhood. A word full of White picket fences Of lucious green gardens With rainbow sprinkles in the backyard A place that wasn’t meant for me. With a word so pillaged by a whiter tongue it’s dirty So that means part of me must be dirty too. But my barrio is beautiful and wonderful And full of life and color and everything that makes my heart squeeze It is beautiful, just like me.
Emily Citlani Martinez (She/Her) is a senior at UCI double majoring in Psychological Science and English. When she’s not studying, she likes to spend time with her family and two dogs. After graduation, she plans on continuing with grad school and pursuing a career as a mental health provider.