You ask me to speak my truth to take a risk to dare to give up my hard-won 'Hispanic, educated, young woman' title. I won it. The way boxers win their metal trophies. I won it. Hands tight armpits dripping with fear body bruised and bathed in salt water and my parents' blood. I won the trophy. Did I lose myself? It's hard not to sell out. Harder even to be who you are--to 'speak my own truth.' My education, correct accent, my 'racial tolerance' barely masking contempt these are tools and weapons my father gave me to survive in this white world, in this white game where in the end, my worst enemy is myself.

	"To Gloria" © 1991, 1995 by Ángela Victoria Manzanares
	Original Graphics © 1995 by Jim Davis-Rosenthal

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