“Pirated” by Elizabeth Sanchez. Oil on Panel.

My second great grandfather had one of those Arabian last names, those names that start with 'Al' and have a sound you keep in your tongue after you send it away. One night a casual conversation with grandma told the truth about our so thought exotic last name, which wasn't even mine to "wear" Almaraz had adopted a son, whose wasn't his, and didn't carry his blood, neither his imported color. This boy was my great grandfather. We weren't Almarz, nor exotic or aliens to that dusty land anymore. We were the same but different....What are we then? I worried ... Dad who was already in his 50’s took it humorously and cheerfully replied "we are pirates" (Almaraz pirated). That day I stop justifying my stumpy nose through outlandish ancestors, even if the boldness of it didn't even come from that side. I am a pirate!