"Cutting Us Out" by Bianca de la Cruz
- Illuminate
- Sep 26
- 2 min read
Cutting Us Out
Bianca de la Cruz, Mercy University
Artist Statement: My work is rooted in the collective memory of cultural survival. In my poetry, I seek to give voice to the grief, anger, and resilience that come from histories of erasure and displacement. This piece reflects the pain of being stripped of identity, language, and heritage, while also honoring the strength of what endures. When I write, I carry the voices of my ancestors with me. This poem emerges from a place of grief and anger over everything that has been taken: our language, our traditions, even the way we look and sound. But it’s also about how, even through all that loss, we still hold on to pride. We make beauty out of scraps. We carry flavor in our souls even when the spices are gone. Inspired by poets like Joy Harjo and the traditions of Native and diasporic cultures around the world, I write to affirm the pride and beauty that persist even when much has been taken. As a proud American Dominican, my art is both deeply personal and broadly communal, a way of connecting the struggles of my own culture with those of others who have resisted assimilation and loss. Through rhythm, imagery, and raw honesty, I hope to create a space where grief becomes a source of unity and where survival itself is celebrated as an act of defiance.
This poem reflects on the forced assimilation and cultural erasure imposed on a marginalized group, likely referencing colonialism or oppression. It describes the stripping away of identity and attempting to erase language and heritage. Despite efforts to take away their culture and replace it with something new, the resilience of the people shines through. The poem also highlights the irony of colonizers taking resources, such as spices, but failing to truly understand or appreciate the richness of the culture they sought to destroy. In the end, the oppressed transform what little they are left with into something valuable, showcasing endurance and ingenuity.
They try and cut our hairÂ
Strip us of our clothingÂ
They change our name
Scrub our skin of its hueÂ
And push us into the sunlightÂ
Make us pale and discoloredÂ
Homesick and smotheredÂ
Cut out our mother tongueÂ
And sew in a new oneÂ
Ran off with our spices
But failed to find flavor
Left us with scraps
That we fashioned into delicacy