Critical Specificity

I am Filipino
But it took me a while to
Re-remember that
Born in Hawaii
It was not my land
Yet roots forced to ho
And crack
Through economic cement
In order to get ours
And plant that poisonous seed
To grow tall and spread
Across the island
Stifling with the illusion
Of a green paradise
But silencing the diversity
Marginalized to
Iced out back streets.

To be specific
I am Ilokano
Defined by my mom
Who would spank me with
A hanger when I refused
To go to church
Sulking in the car
Cause dad doesn't have to go
Why should I?
To rebel even more
I erased my first tongue
And replaced it with English
See mom,
I told you I would run away from home.

The say Ilokanos were the pioneers
Of overseas workers
The first to leave and forget
The systemic problems of home
Transplant our roots
In a new place
But what kind of fruit was grown?
A seedling that struggled to live
Poisoned by pesticides of plantation fields
Watered by tears of a grieving grandma
And held up by the strength of a mother
Who forced herself to love a man

What am I to prove
To be the good seed that grows
And gives birth to another
Generation of rows?
To live, what am I made of?
An appropriated being
Swaying by the Hawaiian breeze
In ti leaf skirts chanting
Eho Mai
Inviting ancestors welcome
In a tongue they don't understand.
To a land
They never really knew.

II.
Land of Mu
Bridged Mai and Hawaiki
Fell into the ocean
People scattered to highest peaks
Or swallowed by the sea
Memory of common ancestry
In language, dance, hands
That tell stories.

Essence produced
In presence of material comforts
Educated and my mom and dad
Sweat in the lawn
To raise green dollars
To pay for the blossoming sugar cane
Draining life of spirits of before
We prospered
As we poisoned
Ourselves and others
Standard of living
Told us our country
Not good enough
take others and
push others out.

We were cheap labor
Our value depreciated
Sub human
Guinea pigs to walk among
The mist of spray
To intoxicate us with
Monocultural dreams

As we died
Our children would desire
The homogenous
And forget the diverse genius
Of our ancestry
Living the language
Cooking and religion
Of family
But abuse and drug use
Confused youth
Looked to the mirror
Of society
And saw an ugly
Brown skinned flat nose
We chose the hard way
We fucked to play
Hung on to loose men
To see the next day
Until a baby was born
And we realized
It was never a game.

What memories lie
Like a stagnant smog
Spewing out the sugar mill
I am Filipino, Ilokano
Against my will
Hawaiian, American
The poisoned seed
Transplanted
And multiplied
In homogenous rows
Straight lines
As we grow strong
And tall
We marginalize diversity
To iced out back roads.