Look at our boots and spurs!

I don’t dance horses

I am not a mariachi

I am not a baile folklorico dancer

I am not the half-time show

or the intermission

I am not just a pretty woman

sitting on a horse

that is standing still

I am a charra

with extraordinary riding skills

I am sitting sidesaddle

drenched in my own sweat

buried in a heavy, layered dress

while I control

1,000 pounds of muscle beneath me

I am enacting a dangerous

mathematically precise routine

at full velocity

I have fallen off of my horse

suffered concussions

broken bones, been dragged

and trampled on

So, the next time you see a woman

dressed like me

look for the boots and spurs

and then you will know

who I am

Notes:

This poem is part of the portfolio “Escaramuza, the Poetics of Home.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the April 2025 issue.