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Ivy
I walk alone through the darkened campus, the moon lighting the gothic architecture, the classroom windows reflecting tree branches and shadows and loneliness. I am trying to clear my head, to feel the environment, to be, to be and think and plan and find my courage. In the chilling autumn breeze, the voices of my ancestors whisper their praise, their encouragement, advice tripping at my back
Look, she’ll live in a castle for four years! Can you see the ivy? Isn’t there supposed to be ivy? Study hard, little one, and think of all the things you will learn. Ah, mi’ja, don’t forget to spice your rice with cumin and garlic, just so, when you feel homesick. And toast the rice, toast it properly. Keep your head up high, butterfly, and look them in the eyes. You are worthy. You earned this. We are so proud. I am so proud. Feel the strength of us. We are here, hear us, listen, like this… do this, be that … make us proud. And prouder still. Here, hear, here, hear. Here.
All these voices around me, but all I really hear, on repeat, is the voice of that white boy, with the eyes of turquoise, questioning me, before class: “woman? first generation at an ivy? wants to study science? brown skin? check, check, check, check. holy shit, how many checks can one person have on that affirmative action checklist?”
So tell me. Whose voice should I hear the loudest? Those who are long ago and distant and full of whispers of potential? Or the louder voice right in front of me, who questions my entire being in this whitely and closely guarded world?
please, tell me what to hear.
please. here.
About Elisabeth Contreras-Moran
(She/Her)Elisabeth Contreras-Moran is an environmental scientist turned writer. She earned a bachelor’s degree in Ecology and Evolutionary Biology from Princeton University, a Master of Science, Forensic Science degree from John Jay College of Criminal Justice, CUNY and had completed all the coursework for a doctoral degree in Earth and Environmental Science through the Graduate Center, CUNY before she moved to rural England. She trained as a secondary school teacher in England and now spends her days home educating her son and his friends in nature immersed ways. She spends her nights writing and creating, when the house is quiet. Elisabeth enjoys writing prose poetry, gardening, authoring and illustrating children’s picture books, and spending copious amounts of time outdoors (English weather allowing). Her poetry has been published through Alebrijes Review’s Cultura column. Though she cannot speak Spanish, she sometimes dreams in it. She can be found on social media at: http://instagram.com/econtreras_moran_author. Her linktree account is: https://linktr.ee/EContreras_Moran.
