What am I doing to deserve what I have?
What a treacherous question. When I "people watch" I can't but help but realize that what is really under the covers are my projections. So when I compare the BMW to the 68' rusted pic up it is actually a sadness for the comfort and convenience I am not willing to strive for, but more importantly know I don't need. It is awkward because I felt so close to achieving what might be called prosperity by American terms. I sit wondering what inflamed my desire to find my way back to New Mexico. I sometimes think about the cliche idea that I made it out. The "made it out" that validated the hatred that swirls along with the love I have for my home. What does I was so close mean?
It sadly means I could have lived the dreams my grandparents dreamed for me. It means I might have fulfilled the hopes my parents hoped. I could have been accepted and swam in the sea called America. I might have had the manicured lawn, cleaning lady, and facades that painted me as acceptable. I might have seemed civil, worthy of invitation to the table of fraternal America.
It also means that I would validate my ancestral self doubt. I would acknowledge the projections from taburculosis ridden refugees from the eastern metropolises of America that planted the seeds of inferiority into my barrios. These sick and desperate bodies came with an economy that wasn't superior, but desperate. Had I stayed on the course of American prosperity I would have drowned the remaining dignity that my New Mexican heritage demanded.
I was so close to selling my soul to an American shadow. I walked the edge of prostituting my heritage. I came dangerously close to abandoning a life of service for a life of worth. I had grown into an attitude of self health versus a lifestyle of symbiosis. I almost became so self interested that I left the discouraged and tired people of New Mexico to accept a minuscule role as America's nuclear garbage can.
I sat with a young woman at a bar and listened while she asked me,"didn't you have any good men in your life"? I can say with a regulated heart and passionate soul, not only did I have some chignon men in my life, but I was raised and nurtured by the most amazing Chicana women.
I don't know if I am doing enough to earn what God has blessed me with but I know I could never do enough to repay the privilege gained from the debt my ancestor have paid in doubt, humility, and loyalty to Christ. I am working really hard to love myself and realize I am still a novice at knowing what love is.
