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Try being a white girl in a high school full of Chicanos.

You know you shouldn’t go into a bathroom alone,

but your tampon can’t wait until the end of the day.

Try comprehending the fear that comes from hearing

the bathroom door slam shut behind you.

Surrounded by knife wielding girls, 

blood trickling down your leg,

you feel the cold blade against your white face,

remember the scars they’ve left on others, search 

your blank mind for anything you’ve done,

the smiles for Carlos and Eloy,

the long, late night phone calls with Roberto.

You are a white girl, and they will decide 

what face you get to show to the world.

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