inflicted.
i am a child of the royal mother country, the birth brethren of those who spawn the infestation of this so-called new world. and in these lands, older than our written histories may dream, i find, more often than not, that my true brothers and sisters are the desolate and decimated whose tortoured roots sink so deep.
most of my spanish family are inflicted with the rush to wealth and false religion.
most would gourge themselves on stolen people1s crops, build palaces on stolen people's land, and then build jails and asylums for the starving and the petty thieves. most would struggle to squeeze the last gold coin out of maize, while turning a blind eye to the thousands thirsting for the taste of clean water, a luxury carefully restricted by royal design.
in the new world, most of us spaniards have forgotten our old dreams, to be free, to love and be loved, to live comfortably, to live well. my people have come down with a horrible sickness, and it is attacking this land with pandemic proportions.
in an effort to stay free of their disease, i find myself wandering the outskirts of mexico city, piecing together a life on the tattered rags of colonial progress. the roads here are like mazes, full of the naked and the ill, the malnourished and the drunken. we have come here through different paths, though none of us rightfully belong in this wretched state, and all of us are homesick and broken.
the indians are at home, though this mockery of tenochtitlan is not now, and never will be, india. the africans, once a free and proud people, mistaken for chattel, have been sold across oceans, fodder for the ever present wars of conquest, machines for the extraction of precious minerals from these majestic mountains. the mestizos and mulattos, not quite enough "us" to reap the rewards of plunder, and just enough "them," to do the empire's shit work. and the spanish among us, well, we are the desperate, the landless and hungry, the bitter truth that eats through the gold veneer of this bloody beast of a system.
we have been cast out of the center of colonial life, left to wander and beg for leftover, malnutritutious and rotting food.
to the rulers, we are pitiful, to be known, only when they can somehow fuck us. they rape our women, and pay a pittance in cash to save face. they rape us in the factories, working ten, twelve, fourteen hour days to bring home just little enough to return the next day. their churches rape us for their holy 'mission,' chastise, burn and crucify us for the sins of loving our own gods, and protecting the life of bur people. their courts and militaries, rape us, jail us and murder us, in order to maintain order, and so that no one has to know why it is that we exist.
if the crown can not extract something from us, then they can simply lock us away. they blame us when we loot their homes, or assualt them without warning. we dirty their precious city, because we can't afford the clothes the wealthy merchants peddle, and because we have grown addicted to the liquor that they brought here with such fervor. when we become revoltingly ill with the diseases of europe, they seek to force a cure upon us, through leeching out our blood and shaming our traditional medical practices.
the crown insults our intelligence by pretending to care about our existence. they beautify our neighborhod with straight roads or lighting, or they wall us off, so that we become invisible. they say that the same god that burns our brethren at the stake, loves us, and believes that we should have orphanages, asylums and houses for the poor. as the owning class' profits soar, they reek of their great charity, giving alms to those 'deserved' few among us.
in our hearts, we know that the crown is very scared. they have built a precarious empire atop the ravaged lives of millions of once proud and brilliant people. we have not forgotten what it is to be free.
just as we did in 1692, we will rise to our rightful place as equals with all the world's peoples. we will burn down the palaces and institutions of power within your vicious regime. we will loot your inhuman markets, walk out of your factories, and struggle fiercely against the churches and militias sent to subdue us.
we will never be subdued.
you can rob us from our land and cram us into boarding houses, segregated off to the outskirts of your gluttony. you can intoxicate us with your liquor, god, and fantasies of someday being wealthy.
but soon enough, all of your illusions will burn with the courthouses, jails, shops and churches. our time will come.
soon enough, all people will know once again what it is to be free.
- Taylor Sparrow