Where did the proud Chicana go….Part 1

zaI remember always being proud of who I was, meaning being American-Mexican, a Chicana. I mean I was the 15 year old wearing pro-immigration, Zapata, Juanes and Chicano pride shirts to school. I listened and danced to banda, cumbias and rock en español. I actively looked for books written by Latinos at my nearby library with very very little success. Throughout high school my major projects had to do with the plight and history of Latinos in this country. I was tired of being ignored. Of my community being ignored in the history books, in our school and in my town. I wanted our existence acknowledged along with the inequity that followed us. I was not afraid of the stares or whispers or ruffling feathers. And as of late I have recognized that fire I once had has been missing for a few years. I think, as I grew older I became complaisant and I lost some of my voice and identity too. -Bella