Good Immigrant Girl
after Jamaica Kincaid
This is how you keep your head down; this is how you thank God for this country: loudly so they hear you; cook fish so it doesn’t taste fishy; work hard but don’t take jobs from white people; this is how you become better than them without competing; keep your head down; this is how you pick the good bananas at the store; say vai tomar no cú when someone asks you to teach them how to curse in Portuguese; this is how you speak English with no accent; this is how you lose your language: slowly, like a reverse sipping of hot alphabet soup; learn Spanish and be grateful for the middle ground; this is how you talk to Southerners when you’re at a gas station in the middle of nowhere on a road trip; learn samba in case someone asks you to prove you’re Brazilian; make thin cuts along the length of the papaya so it ripens faster; renew your DACA every two years and be grateful for the middle ground; this is how you don’t drive yourself crazy; go to therapy but don’t alarm your therapist enough to get committed because that shit shows up if you’re applying for papers one day; this is how you hide; don’t ask anyone for money; you weren’t brought to this country to beg for anything from these people; shape your pão de queijo balls perfectly: slather oil on your hands, shape the dough gently so it kind of looks like a pião, then smooth it into a sphere; keep up with immigration news but don’t get hopeful; this is how you don’t drive yourself too crazy; learn to mourn your dead without ever going to funerals; this is how you keep the garlic teeth from jumping out of the mortar: you add a little salt; be careful when you let the steam out of a pressure cooker; this is how you stay; mas e se eu não quizer continuar aqui?; you mean to say that after all of that you’re not even going to stay?
Journal
Doubling up on pants for elementary school in Boston undocumented // Daring myself to take the big slide in the playground undocumented // First crush on a boy who was mean to me undocumented // He called me four-eyes undocumented // Taking walks with my mom undocumented // Stopping by the Friendly’s undocumented // Trying to preach to the Catholic girl I was told wasn’t saved undocumented // First violin concert undocumented // Sleeping in the car in the move to Georgia undocumented // Waking up and thinking Connecticut is ugly undocumented // Singing in church undocumented // Learning how to
drive undocumented // Watching the news undocumented // Asleep in MARTA, bookbag straps wound around my arms undocumented // Never missing my stop undocumented // Still here undocumented // Paying out-of-state tuition in the state I grew up in undocumented // Graduating with two degrees because fuck ‘em undocumented // Asking permission to leave the country undocumented // Strapping my dog to my torso undocumented // Explaining immigration law to Georgia congressmen undocumented // Can’t shake undocumented // So tired undocumented // Leaving the South to try to forget undocumented // But I’m still in the country undocumented // Looking at Zillow for places in Puerto Rico undocumented // Increasing my Prozac prescription undocumented // Psychiatrist saying she learned so much from me undocumented // Writing poems about the sky undocumented // Getting older and thinking about children undocumented // Protesting US funding of Palestinian genocide undocumented // Leaving early because the cops arrived undocumented // Rewatching comfort cartoons undocumented // Craig of the Creek and Centaurworld and Wake Up Carlo and Bob’s Burgers undocumented // Embroidering and crocheting and felting undocumented // I know it’s all compulsive undocumented // Checking on my sister undocumented // Calling my mother undocumented // Waking up undocumented //
