Brown skin and green eyes make up my human design, tell-tailing the conquest of my family ancestry. History runs through my veins, in red, angry bursts of energy. Although I don’t know the tale of how I came to be, I can put together pieces of history, from fragments of those before me. It all began with a Spanish conquest, as they sought out power with glistening gold and slavery. They shackled an Indigenous dream of Freedom and force-feed Christianity. Irony grows from their hell-bound ashes, creating trees of truth that we remake, allowing them to breath between history pages. I don’t know if I’m a product of their love or lust, but perhaps not all things are worth knowing.
Spaniards controlled northern Mexican territories, forcefully planting their future into Indigenous lives to create a mix of ethnicities. “Mestiza” is a word born of mixed indigenous and Spaniard ancestry. I am her, the product of their dominance and greed. They as the Spaniards curated a world made of people whom resembled them. And now, I view their conquest history with Spanish eyes and fair, Indigenous skin.
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