We Are Owed. is the debut poetry collection of Ariana Brown, exploring Black relationality in Mexican and Mexican American spaces. Through poems about the author’s childhood in Texas and a trip to Mexico as an adult, Brown interrogates the accepted origin stories of Mexican identity. We Are Owed asks the reader to develop a Black consciousness by rejecting U.S., Chicano, and Mexican nationalism and confronting anti-Black erasure and empire-building. As Brown searches for other Black kin in the same spaces through which she moves, her experiences of Blackness are placed in conversation with the histories of formerly enslaved Africans in Texas and Mexico. Esteban Dorantes, Gaspar Yanga, and the author’s Black family members and friends populate the book as a protective and guiding force, building the “we” evoked in the title and linking Brown to all other African-descended peoples living in what Saidiya Hartman calls “the afterlife of slavery.”
Ariana Brown is a Black Mexican American poet from San Antonio, Texas, with a B.A. in African Diaspora Studies and Mexican American Studies from UT Austin. She is the recipient of two Academy of American Poets Prizes and a 2014 collegiate national poetry slam champion. An alum of Brave New Voices, Ariana's work has been featured in PBS, Huffington Post, Blavity, For Harriet, and Remezcla.
Ariana, who has been dubbed a "part-time curandera," has performed across the U.S. at venues such as the San Antonio Guadalupe Theater, Harvard University, Tucson Poetry Festival, and the San Francisco Opera Theatre. When she is not onstage, she is probably eating an avocado, listening to the Kumbia Kings, or validating black girl rage in all its miraculous forms. Her work is published in Nepantla, Muzzle, African Voices, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review and ¡Manteca!: An Anthology of Afro-Latin@ Poets from Arte Público Press. She is currently earning an MFA in Poetry at the University of Pittsburgh. Follow Ariana on Twitter and Instagram @arianathepoet.
6 STARS. the prose, the messages, the openness everything about it is so beautiful - ariana brown is a genius and the collection challenges you to think. i’m literally obsessed🤩
favorites: - Aguacate - A Division of Gods - Why I Want to Know What Yanga Looked Like - Volver, Volver (genuinely almost made me cry in public loll)
Ariana Brown delivers an urgent and arresting debut volume of poems in We Are Owed. Many of the pieces take on the forces of history, while she also explores her yearning and love for family along with her diverse identity and cultural heritage. The best way, I think, to review poetry is to share snippets of the poet’s vision. I marked a number of verses that resonate with Brown’s strong voice and her vital message about inclusion and belonging:
• From “At the End of the Borderlands”: we need new origins countries are killing everyone I love from my cousin’s lips a wish for my safety from my curandera’s hands rituals for healing I simmered rosemary & drank its tea grew my hair thick as a plague spoke poems til my throat blistered & waned & still could not curse colonizers enough
• From “Borderlands suite: Names”: Brown is my name, not yours. Brown is the color I am no matter the season. I am brown but I am not dark skinned. Black is also my color. Black is also my allegiance. I am Black but I am not dark skinned. Brown does not mean dark skinned. Black Power is my allegiance. Black is not my name but it is my condition.
• From “Introductions”: i talk to everyone’s ancestors. i’m a cotton twirler, shape shifter, gravedigger. my curandera says “the earth can transform anything.” i be buryin’ shit all the time.
• From “Borderlands suite: North”: What good is memory without facts? In this century an app shaped like a compass tells me which direction I must face to pray. I ask herbs for assistance. I am not alone. There are things I know are unknowable. Things I would give up my hair, my god, my own feet to know. Praying is not like wishing—you must have something to offer.
My rating of four stars is not a reflection of quality, but rather my craving for more. Although this is an excellent debut, I wanted more, and I hope Ariana Brown will deliver more in future books. Her talents are evident, and I’m eager for more of her work.
Unflinching and thought-provoking. This San Antonian poet examines the legacy of colonialism and migration from the perspective of her own lived experience, wherein her Blackness often put her at odds with her mostly Latinx community. Brown's poems challenge our concepts of borders, belonging, and even family. There's some interesting history in here as well, like the story of Gaspar Yanga.
I have so many thoughts that I'm going to need some time! But as always, Ariana Brown has created and shared a stunning piece of work that I'm honored to read. I think everyone should read it, and appreciate it. Wow.
I have really mixed feelings about this book, which makes my four-star review seem a little weird perhaps, but I'll explain...
The language in this book was really beautiful. I found myself writing down pages that I wanted to come back to reread after I finished the book and when I looked at the list of pages I wanted to return to, there were a bunch. I think that this book is really well-written and a truly strong collection. With all the tumult going on in the world right now, I think there's a lot to be said for how Ariana Brown talks about self & country as a complicated relationship, with lines like "we need new origins countries are killing everyone I love" (from "At the End of the Borderlands"). This sentiment is unsettlingly accurate, even though I wish it weren't. And self vs. country is a conflict that is so, so big and needs to be discussed more often, just as Brown does so eloquently throughout her poetry in this book.
Now, for the mixed feelings part...I found myself feeling frustrated with this book quite a bit. Just as Alán Pelaez López foretells in the foreword, my reading experience was interrupted--I was often starting-and-stopping--because I needed to consult the Internet to understand all the Mexican slang words and look up context I hadn't ever learned about before (which I think is intentional...and says a lot about whose history is taught in schools and whose isn't). I know this was intentional--and necessary--for Brown, as a way of centering the book on her experiences and the way in which she was always "outside" of things looking in, like she needed a translator between herself and the world around her. But, it did frustrate me because it took me out of the poems every time I stopped to look something up.
So, I am endlessly appreciative of Brown's poetry and believe she is a skilled poet--and I think (and hope) others will truly LOVE her work--but I did, at times, struggle to feel "at one" with the reading experience.
A firestorm of truth, resistance, and reclamation—We Are Owed is a stunning poetic manifesto.
Ariana Brown’s We Are Owed is a searing, soul-deep collection that doesn’t just speak—it demands to be heard. These poems are urgent, unflinching, and full of righteous love for Blackness, Brownness, girlhood, and survival. Brown writes from the margins and makes them the center, unapologetically.
This is poetry as protest, as prayer, as survival. It affirms what the title declares: we are owed. We are owed dignity, rest, joy, ancestry, softness, space. Brown unpacks generational trauma, anti-Blackness in Latinx communities, colonization, diaspora, loneliness, and the weight of being seen only when suffering. And yet, through all of this, she carves room for tenderness—for herself, for her readers, and for the ones we’ve lost.
Her voice is electric. Whether her tone is sharp, mournful, or quietly reflective, the clarity of her purpose never wavers. These poems do not ask for permission. They testify.
This is the kind of book that stays with you. It gives you permission to feel your anger, to protect your softness, to name what was stolen, and to believe you are worthy of healing anyway. For anyone who has ever been told they’re too much, too loud, too angry, too emotional—this book tells you: you are exactly enough.
We Are Owed is not just a collection—it’s a declaration. And I am grateful for it.
I read this collection of poetry as a party of a Book Club I created with my friend. While I did not take the lead on this collection I was a member of the community. I read this in conjunction with Legendborn by Tracy Deonn. Both books have a surprising amount of overlap.
I want to sit with Ariana Brown and listen to her speak for years. Every word written has such purpose behind it.
So many questions are asked and demand to be pondered on, from the title on. What is it we are owed? How do we reclaim what was taken? Who is we? The last lines of we are owed are these “There was never/any magic;there/was never this/ body or its wound,/there was only/ water/ & the stories/ we passed/through it” I’m going to carry those words with me in my own work.
I will sit with this text for a lot longer. (Also there is a really cool avocado poem that is a masterwork of form play. I love it soooo much)
Brown's poetry is filled with passion, power, and activism. I love the way that she explores her identity as a queer Afro-Latinx woman, especially considering the ways that colonialism and slavery have impacted and continue to impact Mexico and the U.S. I also love that this collection includes little snippets of history to provide context for some of her poems. This felt like a personal collection, but also one filled with engagement in the world and politics. Very much enjoyed!
Content Warnings: racism, microaggressions, slavery, death of a family member
It wasn’t until recently that I found myself interested in poetry and Brown’s compilation keeps that interest kindled. A challenge to traditional understandings of both Chicanismo and Blackness, each conversation pushed me to rethink what I knew (or arrogantly thought I knew) about both identity and intersectionality. People can be cold, but sometimes family can cut deeper than we thought possible. And home … well, maybe what we think is a welcoming homeland can be the most brutal of all.
… quiero volver, volver Volver Quise volver, volver But I give the Spaniard back his crime. His wet murder, My half fluency- I choose to forgive the chaos violence left me. Quiero salir, salir, salir to love no nation, to kiss my mirror with the mouth I own.
I’ve read some of Ariana Brown’s poetry before so I decided to give this a shot since it had been sitting on my bookshelf for years. I absolutely loved how she incorporates prose and poetry and weaves historical knowledge with her personal experiences. a short, insightful and moving collection of poetry.
“We are Owed.” never falters from its leading imperative - we, Black folk, are owed so much. We are owed the full recognition of our lives, are owed nations that love us, are owed freedom from the violence of borders. So much love in this book’s fury.
This was a great set of poems. By no means am I a poet, but I referenced some in a paper I wrote on Anzaldua. Reading this and Wendy Trevino's one after another was wonderful.
The way Ariana Brown incorporates personal experience, history, politics, and culture is incredibly impressive, but even more so because of how personal the poetry remains
This IS the book we need right now. It is beautiful in its language and the reckoning it calls for, undoubtedly a must read for anyone trying to make sense of the mess Latinidad has us in.
*3.5 This was another required text for intro to poetry but I enjoyed this a tad more than Citizen: An American Lyric. This was shorter in general and the poems mixed history: from documentaries, books, and personal experiences into her poems. She was fairly forward so I understood most of the book, and it was interesting reading about history I was completely unaware of (which is no surprise unfortunately). It was enjoyable, I just don't think it was enough for me to decide to keep it in my personal library. Overall, I'm glad I got to experience it and hear a new point of view.
3.5 stars. bought this after reading and loving one of Brown's poems, but didn't find the rest of the collection equally arresting for me - i'm not quite sure why