Xiomara Batista is full of words - but the world she lives in has no space for them. Her fervently Catholic mother certainly doesn't want to hear them, and the boys on the street only want to ogle at the curves of the woman she's becoming, without interest in what's in her brain. Xiomara's solace is in writing those words down and then holding them close. She finds the catharsis that lies in putting a name to the swirl of emotion that growing up in Harlem can invoke, if only she can find a way to make her street and school life as safe as the pages of her journal.
This one blew my mind. It hurt me, it filled me - Xiomara's words made her experience so real to me. Her painful relationship with her parents, especially her mom, her constant need to be on her guard from the unwanted advances of both strangers and classmates, this felt real. I liked that sometimes our author did NOT translate the Spanish for me, it helped me imagine what it might be like to live in a world where the language of my mother is not the language of my streets. The imagery is vivid and I really liked that Xiomara, even when she was at her most broken, still was in control of her own mind and power. THAT is an important message for everyone to hear. As a wonderful vehicle for really trying to understand life from a different point of view, I'd highly recommend this to older teens.
sensitivity warning: mild teenage sexual situation
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