by Merrit Malloy

When I die Give what’s left of me away To children And old men that wait to die. And if you need to cry, Cry for your brother Walking the street beside you. And when you need me, Put your arms Around anyone And give them What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something, Something better Than words Or sounds.

Look for me In the people I’ve known Or loved, And if you cannot give me away, At least let me live on in your eyes And not on your mind.

You can love me most By letting Hands touch hands, By letting Bodies touch bodies, And by letting go Of children That need to be free.

Love doesn’t die, People do. So, when all that’s left of me Is love, Give me away.

And your grandma, where is she?

Yesterday you called me Negro, And today I will respond to thee: My mom sits in the living room, And your grandma, where is she?

My hair is kinky, Yours is like silk, Your father’s hair is straight, And your grandma, where is she?

Your color came out white, And your cheeks are pink; Your lips are thin, And your grandma, where is she?

You say that my lips are big And they’re always red? But tell me, in the name of the Virgin, And your grandma, where is she?

Since your girl is white, You take her out a lot… And I feel like yelling to you: And your grandma, where is she?

You like Foxtrot, And I like ‘Bruca Manigua’, You display yourself as white And your grandma, where is she?

You are white on the outside and got into High Society Fearing that someone may get to know The mother of your own mami.

Here, who does not have Dinga has Mandinga ha ha ha haaa! So again, I ask you, And your grandma, where is she?

Yesterday you called me Negro, Wanting to embarrass me. My grandma steps out to the living room, And yours hidden from everybody.

The poor woman is dying Seeing herself so abused. Even your dog barks at her If she ever steps out to the living room.

And I know her very well! Her name is Mrs. Tata You hide her in the kitchen, Because Negro is really… she.

DINGA Y MANDINGA by Fernando Fortunato Vizcarrondo (Spanish)

¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Ayé me dijite negro Y hoy te boy a contejtá: Mi mai se sienta en la sala. ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Yo tengo el pelo’e caíyo: El tuyo ej seda namá; Tu pai lo tiene bien lasio, ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Tu coló te salió blanco Y la mejiya rosá; Loj lábioj loj tiénej finoj … ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

¿Disej que mi bemba ej grande Y mi pasa colorá? Pero dijme, por la binge, ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Como tu nena ej blanquita La sacaj mucho a pasiá … Y yo con ganae gritate ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

A ti te gujta el fojtrote, Y a mi brujca maniguá. Tú te laj tiraj de blanco ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Erej blanquito enchapao Que dentraj en sosiedá, Temiendo que se conojca La mamá de tu mamá.

Aquí el que no tiene dinga Tiene mandinga . . ¡ja, ja! Por eso yo te pregunto ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Ayé me dijite negro Queriéndome abochoná. Mi agüela sale a la sala, Y la tuya oculta ajtá.

La pobre se ejtá muriendo Al belse tan maltratá. Que hajta tu perro le ladra Si acaso a la sala bá.

¡Y bien que yo la conojco! Se ñama siña Tatá … Tu la ejconde en la cosina, Po’que ej prieta de a beldá.

In the poem, Viscarrondo discusses the importance of accepting/embracing one’s culture. Throughout the poem, he repeats the line: Tu Abuela, ¿Dónde Está? (And where is your grandmother?) It is said that Puerto Ricans will say this to light-complexioned Puerto Ricans to remind them of their African roots. In essence, even with non-ethnic features, there’s no denying who you are by looking at your grandma…your ancestors. You can’t keep grandma hidden…

And your grandma, where is she?

Yesterday you called me Negro, And today I will respond to thee: My mom sits in the living room, And your grandma, where is she?

My hair is kinky, Yours is like silk, Your father’s hair is straight, And your grandma, where is she?

Your color came out white, And your cheeks are pink; Your lips are thin, And your grandma, where is she?

You say that my lips are big And they’re always red? But tell me, in the name of the Virgin, And your grandma, where is she?

Since your girl is white, You take her out a lot… And I feel like yelling to you: And your grandma, where is she?

You like Foxtrot, And I like ‘Bruca Manigua’, You display yourself as white And your grandma, where is she?

You are white on the outside and got into High Society Fearing that someone may get to know The mother of your own mami.

Here, who does not have Dinga has Mandinga ha ha ha haaa! So again, I ask you, And your grandma, where is she?

Yesterday you called me Negro, Wanting to embarrass me. My grandma steps out to the living room, And yours hidden from everybody.

The poor woman is dying Seeing herself so abused. Even your dog barks at her If she ever steps out to the living room.

And I know her very well! Her name is Mrs. Tata You hide her in the kitchen, Because Negro is really… she.

DINGA Y MANDINGA by Fernando Fortunato Vizcarrondo (Spanish)

¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Ayé me dijite negro Y hoy te boy a contejtá: Mi mai se sienta en la sala. ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Yo tengo el pelo’e caíyo: El tuyo ej seda namá; Tu pai lo tiene bien lasio, ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Tu coló te salió blanco Y la mejiya rosá; Loj lábioj loj tiénej finoj … ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

¿Disej que mi bemba ej grande Y mi pasa colorá? Pero dijme, por la binge, ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Como tu nena ej blanquita La sacaj mucho a pasiá … Y yo con ganae gritate ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

A ti te gujta el fojtrote, Y a mi brujca maniguá. Tú te laj tiraj de blanco ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Erej blanquito enchapao Que dentraj en sosiedá, Temiendo que se conojca La mamá de tu mamá.

Aquí el que no tiene dinga Tiene mandinga . . ¡ja, ja! Por eso yo te pregunto ¿Y tu agüela, aonde ejtá?

Ayé me dijite negro Queriéndome abochoná. Mi agüela sale a la sala, Y la tuya oculta ajtá.

La pobre se ejtá muriendo Al belse tan maltratá. Que hajta tu perro le ladra Si acaso a la sala bá.

¡Y bien que yo la conojco! Se ñama siña Tatá … Tu la ejconde en la cosina, Po’que ej prieta de a beldá.

In the poem, Viscarrondo discusses the importance of accepting/embracing one’s culture. Throughout the poem, he repeats the line: Tu Abuela, ¿Dónde Está? (And where is your grandmother?) It is said that Puerto Ricans will say this to light-complexioned Puerto Ricans to remind them of their African roots. In essence, even with non-ethnic features, there’s no denying who you are by looking at your grandma…your ancestors. You can’t keep grandma hidden…

Hearst Castle by Julia Morgan