Being Puerto Rican outside of the island is a weird place to be. I live in a weird in between not many people can understand. Not quite international, not quite American either. Not foreign, but not a Native. A lot of times when I say "I'm not American," the response is "well, yeah, but you techincally are..." But, I'm techinically not.

My papers might say that I am a citizen of the US, but everything else about me rebels against that notion. I rebel against the whiteness of my skin because I don't "look Puerto Rican enough." My skin color has erased the traces of Taino and African blood which courses through my veins, yet this white skin is still not white enough for Americans and I do not see my whiteness in theirs. This nose and these lips and these hips honor mama Africa, and I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

My accent my speak a different truth, but Spanish is my mother tongue. For 17 years straight I spoke Spanish every day. In this country I get strange looks at times when I am on the phone with my family, I sometimes fear verbal attacks from strangers who give me looks when I speak my mother tongue in public. The accent in my name, my father AND mother's last name on my papers, and the way I roll my "r's" are who I am - and I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

I respect the US, their flag, their anthem - but I do not place my hand over my heart, I am not moved to tears by their patriotic songs, and their 50 stars have no place for my only one. The flag donning my walls and my clothes and my identity has only 5 stripes. 3 that bleed red for all our suffering and 2 white bandages that allow me to carry on. The azure pyramid protects the single star that like the North star leads me home. I don't have the "Star Spangled Banner" but "La Borinqueña" which fills my chest with pride and moves the patriotism to burst forth from lips and rests the hand on a heart that is filled with love for my tiny island. I respect these symbols of "Americanness," but they are not symbols of my identity. I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

I see the independent nature of children from their homes. The seldom call home, the eye rolls at their parents' pride, and how in this American world, the individual comes first. There is nothing wrong with this, but this is not my world. At 21 I still ask for permission, I still call my parents nearly every day. My family is my center, and all I do, I do for them. I put others, especially my family, before me. I seem nosy because being in "other people's buisness" is how I grew up. I am always mami and papi's baby girl, I'm always searching for the comfort of my grandmother's skirt because I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

My childhood is the smell of coffee and mofongo, the sound of salsa and regguetón. I never saw an American Football game all the way through, but I crowded around the TV for Cotto's next match. I didn't celebrate any of America's Olympic gold medals, but I cheered and couldn't stop smiling for weeks after Monica Puig gave us our first gold. I remember a cold "limber" after school, the perfect combination of an "empanadilla" and an Icee, and the donuts in that yellow box they still sell on the streets. I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

I don't clean without the sounds of Hector Lavoe and Marc Anthony, I don't have guests over without cleaning every inch of my home. My hospitality is "sit down, and ask for what you need - as a guest, you are the King/Queen of this home." I search for the worst "Pepito" jokes, and go through the paper looking for "Tato y Quenepo." I had Barney and the Teletubies, but "Remi" and "Maria Chucema" were my go-to shows. A 3 hour road trip took me from shore to shore instead of leaving me in the same State because I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

I speak of "wepa," and "guagua," and "jangueo," and "zafacón." My language still beats to the drums of Africa and the cuatro of my home. I have a saying for everything: "pueblo chiquito, infierno grande," (small town, big hell) "si el rio suena, es porque piedras trae," (if the river makes a sound, it's because it brings stones) and "es tres velocidades: lento, lentisimo, y parado" (it has three speeds: slow, slower, and stopped). I hail from Guaynabo, Morovis, and San Sebastián. I am La Perla, El Yunque, Las Cabachuelas, Vieques, and La Guancha. I am not American - I am Puerto Rican.

I hail from the daughter of the sun and the sea. I am made of 3 thirds where Spain gave me the palor of my skin, Africa gave me my curls and my nose, and the Tainos gave me a fighting spirit and the beats of their drums. I am the product of over 500 years of colonialism. I am the product of a country getting swallowed up by America. I am the product of a caged island. I am the product of debt, and drought, and closing schools. I am the product of a 46% poverty rate. I am the product of unemployment and "I can't go back home." I am the product of Albizu, and Lolita, and Oscar, and Hostos. I'm sorry, but I am not American - Boricua 100x35 Yo Soy (Puerto Rican 100x35 I am).