In a past life, I was a cowboy, fighting Spaniards for land rights.

Soy Mestizo.

Soy Mexicano.

Back then, I was something whole. Something male.

How else would I know the difference now?

People ask me if I’m Filipino,

If I’m Hawaiian or Japanese.

I say:

My father is Chinese, born & raised in Fiji.

My mother is Polish, Irish, German, from New Zealand.

When the Spaniards came, we fought their muskets with our hands.

I died without a family, atop a mesa covered with red dirt.

It rained. My lifeless brown skin glistened as the blood mixed in with the soil.

When I die, it will be in a hospital.

People might remember something about me;

 the way I laughed like a typewriter.

I was nineteen and strong.

The Spaniards buried us all in one grave.

My spirit seeped into the earth.

My spirit will find an eagle and fly to heaven.