Broken Latina Whole - =link=

They wanted me whole in their image: digestible. Pardon my English. Pardon my trauma. Pardon my survival that still shakes when I hear certain doors slam.

Here’s a draft for a post based on — a powerful, raw, and poetic concept that could fit a personal essay, Instagram caption, or spoken word piece. I’ve written it in a reflective, first-person voice, but let me know if you want it shorter, more political, or more visual. Title / Opening Line: They tried to tell me I was broken — but they forgot we were never meant to fit inside their silence. broken latina whole

— A daughter of the diaspora, still becoming. Would you like a shorter version for Instagram (150–200 characters), or one in Spanish/Spanglish? They wanted me whole in their image: digestible