Reading Anzaldua makes my eyes watery. This Chicana lesbian talking about the border in Texas resonates with me. It hurts to think about how late I was introduced to her. It hurts to think about what if I never did. It makes me wonder how different my life and thoughts would have been if I’d found her sooner. She, this queer intellectual poet, makes me feel like I have a home among los mexicanos, a home I never knew existed and that I never thought I would have.
