Tag Archives: Aracely Mondragon


by Aracely Mondragon, ’13

"Nepantlera" – Celia Herrera Rodriguez

quedan 4 minutos con 36 segundos en esta llamada

The process of calling my ‘ama
Acaso no vivo en esa llamada?
esperando desde el otro lado
viviendo en mi fantasía
que tengo alas y vuelo
muy pero muy cerca del sol
adonde abro mis colores
que bailo
con la mujer de libertad
hasta cruzar su mirada
y otras más frías
hay a quienes
les molesta
todo mi revoloteo
me quieren enjaular
convertir mi jardin en invierno
y cuando eso pasa
solo sueño
que vuelo sur
y allí vuelvo a nacer Continue reading

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Collective Healing

by Aracely Mondragon, ’13

“Chicana Birth” by Irene Jor, ’13

My name is Aracely Mondragon and I am…

I am stories
Of arduous walks
Across a cruel and thieving desert
Of being smuggled in a stereobox
Holding your breath
Praying to the virgencita

I am fetters
On my parent’s wrists and necks
That keep them immobile
Their humanity defined
In terms of legality Continue reading

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On the Violence We Do to Ourselves

by Aracely Mondragon, ’13

It is often easy to paint violence and oppression as something external to ourselves, say the aggressors is the white able bodied male because yes over history and institutionally there is a system with hierarchies set in place that is extremely violent… this is a vital conversation but so is that of our interpersonal relationships. What about the violence that goes on within our closest relationships and within ourselves? By violence I don’t necessarily mean physical abuse, but harm that can happen at both an emotional and psychological level. When you are bombarded with messages from society that try to tell you you’re not good enough, that you don’t belong, or that who you are is someone to be despised …. you have to think how much of that do you internalize? How much do you start believing and then disseminating? The more I think about all the small expressions of hostility I thought I had just let slide off, I realize how much of it I swallowed and let fester inside. I can’t help but think of what harm I have done to myself and others…. Continue reading

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John Morton: Stop the Deportations

by Sharada Jambulapati, ’12, Aracely Mondragon, ’13 + Holly Fetter, ’13

Today, John Morton is the keynote speaker at the Stanford Law School’s 2nd Annual Immigration Compliance Symposium. This man is the Director of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement), the government agency responsible for arresting, detaining, and deporting thousands of immigrants a year.

Since Obama took office, ICE has deported 1.2 million immigrants. That’s more than any other president, including George W. Bush. Imagine that the entire population of Bush’s current hometown, Dallas, Texas, was forcibly removed from this country. 1.2 million people, gone.

This isn’t an issue of abstract, criminal bodies crossing borders. This is about real lives being destroyed by bureaucrats like John Morton.

It’s about families being separated, children being left behind while their parents are sent back to their country of origin. In the first half of 2011, the federal government removed over 46,000 mothers and fathers of U.S.-citizen children. Continue reading

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Memories Of My Brown Skin

by Aracely Mondragon, ’13

I’m starting to break all the silences that confine me. And I’ve never hidden my skin, but now I place it inches from yours and let you see the pain they hold.

According to a report published by the Human Rights Watch in 2009, the majority of people deported are deported for non-violent crimes. A little over one million families members are separated by these deportations. I am one of those million.

Some moments in your life you remember with painful precision. These moments can define you… they seep into your skin, engrave themselves in your heart and if you look closely you can see them in my eyes and hear them in my voice… Continue reading

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Progressive Poetry

by Aracely Mondragon, ’13

Just an Anchor (When My Eyes Meet Yours)

I found myself a rising Sophomore at Stanford University hearing talks of a Birthright Citizenship Act that would eliminate birthright to children born of undocumented immigrants. Here I was, being called an anchor baby… my friends… anchor babies, my cousins… anchor babies… but were we? After years of struggling to reconcile my parent’s notion of the American Dream and the harsh reality of a broken immigration system… I decided not to be defeated, I decided to move forward and here I stand like many others at an elite institution trying to give back to this place I call home.

As I lay in a crowded bed, next to my brothers and sisters
Looking out at the sky with wishful, hopeful eyes
You look down on me, a pest
You say I am just an anchor
And that you do not want me here
As I sit in a wooden desk, thinking how I could be so lucky
Looking toward the front of the lecture hall through eager, determined eyes
You look down on me, a nuisance
And tell me I am just an anchor
And that you do not want me here
Continue reading

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