Huaraches

by Ramon Jimenez

Leather and leftover tires.
The wheels of my feet.
I felt a superpower when I had them on.
I could jump like Jordan and climb like a jaguar.

How I struggled to grow up
and carve out an identity on this stolen land of America.
Huaraches let me stomp on the pride of the occupiers.
These slippers of invisibility.
Papa would talk about
how these were the best shoes during his youth,
since it was common for many to be barefoot.

I wore them with pride until I went to college.
Freshman year, my friends from the Valley.
Uppity Mexicans who pretended to forget Spanish
laughed at me for wearing Huaraches.
A cocktail of insults, some teasing,
and the nastiest words that could appear
out of a whitewashed mouth
made me embarrassed every time
I had them on my feet.

After freshman year,
I stopped wearing Huaraches,
assimilating my feet
to dress shoes and sneakers.
But on a nice, hot day,
I still choose the magic of a wide sombrero
over the basic blandness of a baseball cap.

Wildfire X 2023

by Beth Harton


Ramon Jimenez is a poet, educator, and food lover. He writes about immigration, culture, and geopolitics. Originally from southern California, he now resides in the rainy backwaters of Seattle.

Beth Horton holds a degree in creative arts therapy, and she majored in health science at Niagara University, in Lewiston, New York. Her love for art began as a small child, watching her father paint into the wee hours of the morning. In addition to abstract art, Beth enjoys photography, mixed-media composition and sketches. Her work has appeared in several publications, including Aji Magazine, Club Plum, Olit, Months to Years, and Pensive.

Leave a comment