Carla’s Status Doesn’t Define Her, Her Humanity Does
Carla came to the U.S. a tiny human
Seven she was
A Chavarría she was
From Atizapán Estado de México she was.
Crossed the border with her mother
Her long-haired, rocanrol–loving dad
Anxiously waited on this side.
As her bones stretched upward in the land of the free
She lived in two worlds.
World one, her home amidst
A Mexican pocket of Snottsdale,
World two, her school
Inhabited predominantly by
White faces.
At home she was a Mexican kid
A daughter
A niece
A neighbor
To people who made ends meet
Working three, sometimes four odd jobs.
Payroll was not something that wanted them.
At school she was a student
A brown one, not an undocumented one.
Undocumented didn’t exist yet for her.
Basketball existed
Graphic design existed
Academics existed
Black and white classmates coexisted
With her.
Undocumented loomed over her as a 16-year-old human
A Junior in high school she was
Trying to enroll in college classes she was
Unable to pay out of state tuition she was
But from in the state she was.
Right?
Carla’s cap and gown crossed the stage of Arcadia High School
In year SB1070
Undocumented was more
Spine-chilling than ever.
But Carla was unafraid
Like so many others
Tired of living in the shadows
She began to raise her roar
Against the crushing system.
Her roar was visual
It was creative
And human.
She picked up a camera
Snapped away
Captured the faces of others like her
Undocumented and Unafraid.
Unable to work for an employer
Carla rejected a free load
And freelanced instead.
She pulled herself up from her boot straps
Except she didn’t have boots
The straps came from the ether of her Young Creative Mind.
In an ironic twist of faith
Carla thrived as an entrepreneur.
The land whose flag waves stripes and stars,
As it denied nine-digit numbers to hard working
Human monarch butterflies
Gifted her another series of digits to be her own boss.
Fuck payroll.
The year the world was supposed to end
YCM was born.
Young Creative Minds
Carla’s own marketing company
She was creating jobs.
The year the world was supposed to end
DACA was born.
Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals
Relief from deportation
Permission to be on payroll
Carla was a childhood arrival
Thanks Obama!
But Carla didn’t want to be on someone else’s payroll.
In the eighth month of 2016
Ganaz Apparel was born.
A clothing line for those who eat tacos and do squats
Ganaz she owns
Ganas she has.
Today DACA ends.
An orange-faced bigot
Too afraid to speak himself
Puppeteered a minion to say
No more relief from separation
No more permission to work
No more dignity.
Carla has DACA
But DACA doesn’t have Carla.
She was a graphic designer
A photographer
A creative
An entrepreneur
Dignity was hers
Before DACA.
Carla’s favorite food is papas
Potatoes for the No Hablo Español crowd
She doesn’t own a car
She lifts 49 kilos in the snatch
59 kilos in the clean
And she lifts spirits with her laughter
Carla is strong
Carla is a human.
Carla is not DACA.
Carla is a DREAMER.
Carla Chavarría is one of the artists of the exhibit “Las fronteras nos dividen, pero el arte nos une.” Her along with Gionava Aviles, Isela Meraz and Gloria Casillas-Martinez will hold a panel to share their stories and how art has played a role in their healing through creative expression. The panel will take place Wednesday, September 6 at The Sagrado Galleria, located at 6437 S. Central Ave.
