anzaldua

There are more subtle ways that we internalize identification, especially in the forms of images and emotions. For me food and certain smells are tied to my identity, to my homeland. Woodsmoke curling up to an immense blue sky; woodsmoke perfuming my grandmother's clothes, her skin. The stench of cow manure and the yellow patches on the ground; the crack of a .22 rifle and the reek of cordite. Homemade white cheese sizzling in a pan, melting inside a folded tortilla. My sister Hilda's hot, spicy menudo, chile cordida making it deep red, pieces of panza and hominy floating on top. My brother Carito barbequing fajitas in the backyard. Even now and 3,000 miles away, I can see my mother spcing the ground beef, pork, and venison with chile. My mouth salivates at the thought of the hot steaming tamales I would be eating if I were home. (31)

Anzaldúa, Gloria. "How to Tame a Wild Tongue." 50 Essays: A Portable Anthology. Ed. Samuel Cohen. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2004. 22-34.