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This was a hard lesson to learn and the story was even harder to read. It touched me and tapped into the confines of my soul, where dwells the hate of the racism and bigotry presented in this story against Geraldo. In the story, Cisneros uses strong, frank language to get her point across and it really hurts- like a staple in the leg. I could barely gulp the story itself, let alone write on it later about why she did this. In fact, I remember sheding a tear as I wrote the analysis, genuinely considering why she did what she did, and understanding how powerful that strategy was first hand. Never before had I done a work of this calibur before, and it really took a lot out of me but was well worth it. Geraldo, today, is the Mexican who dies in a fire, or the illegal immigrant who's impaled on the fence when trying to hope, or the one bitten by a rattlesnake in the middle of nowhere; he's a nobody and no one cares for him. No one mourns his death, or comes to his funeral. I cry, however, for Geraldo, and any other lost Mexican out there. |
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