Chicanx Latinx Heritage Month


My People Are Survivors,

We live each day working hard,

The daily struggles of Mexican Immigrants

Trying to make it through another day,

My People Are Survivors,

Parents who can’t stop worrying,

About being able to pay the bills, or

have a roof over our heads or even food on the table.

My People Are Mexican,

Targeted for being people of color,

For being immigrants,

And hard working people, looking for a better life.

My People Are Mexican,

With y’all Nuestra cultura y

Nuestros Dichos

And our strong community,

My People Are Afraid,

To be taken away,

From their loved ones,

To never see them again.

My People Are Afraid

I am afraid everyday,

That my parents and my brother,

Will be ripped from my arms.

My People Are warriors,

We have been,

since the Aztec Days.

We were the rulers and the oppressed.

My People Are Warriors,

In our 500 years of reconstruction,

They tried to shut us down,

Yet we are still here.

My People Are Campesinos,

Hard Workers,

Low Pay,

Poor Conditions.

My People Are Campesinos,

We pick the fruits from los campos, Breaking our back,

So that You Can have the fruit

That sits at your table as a center piece.

My People Are Your Roots,

America you deny us,

Ignoring that you live

In stolen land.

My People Are Your Roots,

America, The Land of the Free

Home of the Graves

Of the people you neglect

Let me put it this way,

Dear America,

We’ve been here since the beginning,

You took our land, yet still wanted our labor.

We do the hard jobs you wouldn’t do.

You want everything handed to you,

But it doesn’t work that way.

You want to deport us,

Send us back to our home country, YET;

You hire us to clean your house,

Cook your food, do your dishes,

Be the parents of your child, AMERICA

My people are ONE of the many reasons that you’re here.

Simply put it this way … Just like a Mother and Father

We Raised You.

— Leandro Gonzales-Salgado


My People . . . 

My people are who work by day            

So week by week they get some pay

There is a boss, he’s not the best

He’s just as white as all the rest

Because They use their power to oppress

My people are who serve your food

So please try not to be so rude

Leave a tip, and here’s one more

We really aren’t all that poor

My people are who bear success

Never wanting to regress

Always aiming for progress

My people are together

Mourn together

Rejoice together

Because better is together

My people are who love food

Everything is always so so good

Although sometimes too spicy

In a restaurant can be too pricey

My people are creative

To communities we give

We love to share our cultures

But some pick off like vultures

My people are comedic



Yet We still remain undefeated


My people are talent

With no education

And we all stay gallant

With desegregation

My people are immigrants

Place to place itinerant

We know success will never be imminent

My people are religious

More than superstitious

You know damn well in god we tru$t

That’s why we’re ambitious

My people strive for education

But are bombarded with deportation

In a so called “free” nation

What you need to understand

Is that this was our land

My people are among my peers

We’ve been around for many years

Stick around for a few beers

And listen to our cheers

My people are who do your chores

You know? The ones with deadly bores

My people are farmers and charmers as well

My people are doctors and lawyers instead,

And all through the years we work day by day

Because in the end we really don’t play.

— Meche Temayo