YOUTH NOW
“Maybe I Could Save Myself By Writing”
As a Latinx teen in Chicago, he belonged nowhere—until he found his voice
When I was a teenager, I felt like I belonged nowhere. I know it’s a cliché: Ni de aqui, ni de alla, but damn if I didn’t feel that. I walked around with my head to the ground. I was just trying to get through each day.
That was a long time ago now, but recently, I decided to write a book of poems, Citizen Illegal, about what it was like for me as a teenager. I didn’t always love poetry (though I always loved reading). When I was growing up, poetry was taught like it was a historic practice akin to scratching a cave wall with a stick. It was past tense. Poetry happened, but we never met any living poets or even talked about them.
We were empty bank accounts and it was our teachers’ responsibility to deposit facts.
This wasn’t unique to poetry. I attended public schools in a working class south suburb of Chicago called Calumet City, where teachers taught via the banking model of education: We were empty bank accounts, and it was our teachers’ responsibility to deposit facts.
Before we go any further, I have to tell you that my memory cannot be trusted. It’s…
