“On Names” by Alan Pelaez Lopez
On Names
and to think that once,
I thought you were
lucky to trace
trace the maps of your name
to sailors and warriors
where you found honor
we found our owners
where you found
one-third Italian, two-thirds Polish
I found
my great-grandfather murdered by the local Oaxacan government
and great-grandma dead before abuela Belen could learn her name
I found stories of their deaths, but not their lives
*
sometimes, I imagine no last name
I try to imagine no abusive father
no sleeping next to a dog when I reached the states, undocumented
no rollerblading down the cemetery on the border of Newton and Waltham
attempting to find traces of my sister Michelle, buried only a country away
no eating that red-orange piece of brick across from Leary Field
no punching Luis at 9 on the intersection of Marion St. and Bennington St.
no crying under the panda comforter in Noemi’s 3rd floor apartment
*
and when my name
gets lost in translation
I will not correct you
because this, this is how I revolt
when the callouses on my tongue are accents
but the burns that do not let me sleep at night are English
Alan Pelaez Lopez is a queer Afro-Indigenous migrant from Mexico. Having been undocumented for sixteen years, Alan writes about the traumas of migration, growing up poor, and queer and trans activism. Alan’s a contributing writer at Everyday Feminism, and has also published pieces in Black Girl Dangerous, Undocumenting, Gemstone Readings, and more. You can find Alan making jewelry, or sipping on tea talking latest hair treatments.
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