Paper Citizens Pantoum

They entered my house without asking my name,

without knocking on the door or saying please.

They invaded our houses, our offices, our properties,

and they stole the dignity in the streets of Chelsea.

Without knocking on the door or saying please,

they entered my house without saying their names.

And they stole the dignity in the streets of Chelsea.

Are we properties? ¿Somos propiedades?

They entered my house without saying their names,

they weaponized our skin, our accent, our Latinidad.

Are we properties? ¿Somos propiedades?

They instilled fear across our neighborhood.

They weaponized our skin, our accent, our Latinidad,

as if we are citizens made out of paper.

They instilled fear across our neighborhood,

scratched like a lottery ticket.

As if we are citizens made out of paper,

they invaded my home, burnt my identity.

Scratched like a lottery ticket,

the same I entered when I got my first visa.

They invaded my home, burnt my identity,

they demolished my family, weaponized the Laws,

the same I entered when I got my first visa.

Were we ever safe? ¿Estuvimos alguna vez a salvo?

They demolished my family, weaponized the Laws.

Our existence is merely documentation.

Were we ever safe? ¿Estuvimos alguna vez a salvo?

They entered my house without asking my name.

Mariana Pereira Carvalho is a Brazilian poet, technology educator, feminist, and researcher in the intersection of gender equality and technology. She writes about how technology impacts the world we live in, especially marginalized groups, such as women and immigrants. She currently lives in Boston with her partner and their pup, Bono. Instagram: @hellomariworld