"Borderlands" is a work that is hard define. It is part social-commentary, history, poetry, linguistic analysis, philosophy and more that cannot be easily summarized into a single genre. Using these different elements, Anzaldua explores the complex and multifaceted concept of 'identity.' She frames the work through her own lived experiences and language(s), which grounds her arguments in emotional authenticity.

While the content of “Borderlands” is academic in nature, Anzaldua’s decision to write the text in various languages including English, ‘standard’ Spanish, and Chicano Spanish is inherently defiant. Her local dialect is not something that is considered valid speak or eloquent syntax. There is something immensely satisfying about using an unacademic Spanglish to eloquently communicate nuanced social theory that is now taught in universities around the world. These deliberate language choices also enhance much of her poetry that appears in the second half of the book.

The use of multiple languages also allowed for further assessments of how words shape our ideas of identity and culture. For example, in the closing interview of the book a question is asked about post-colonial interactions, and Anzaldua introduces the term “nos-otras” (243). In Spanish, “nos” means “us,” and “otras” means “other,” but the overarching word “nosotras” means “us.” She uses the hyphen within the word to demonstrate that while there is an “us” and “them,” people cannot escape interactions without affecting one another, which ultimately creates a new, unintentional “us.” Moments like this made for both lyrical and insightful explorations of the human experience.

As she draws from her own life experience, Anzaldua examines the elements that make up her identity, including being American, Mexican, Spanish, Native American, and a lesbian. These different factions create friction and put parts of herself at odds with other internal components. She sums up the frustrations and realities of these internal contradictions quite well:

Though I’ll defend my race and culture when attacked by non-mexicanos, conozco el malestar
de mi cultura. I abhor some of my culture’s ways, how it cripples its women, como burras, our
strengths used against us, lowly burras bearing humility and dignity. The ability to serve, claim
the males, is our highest virtue. I abhor how my culture makes macho caricatures of its men. No,
I do not buy all the myths of the tribe into which I was born. I can understand why the more
tinged with Anglo blood, the more adamantly my colored and colorless sisters glorify their
colored culture’s values – to offset the extreme devaluation of it by the white culture. It’s a
legitimate reaction. But I will not glorify those aspects of my culture which have injured me and
which have injured me in the name of protecting me. (43-4)

While I am not Mexican or Chicana, this exclamation rang very true to my own experience as a queer Peruvian-Italian-American (so many hyphens). Growing up, there always seemed to be obvious double standards that were perpetuated by the discontent from imbalanced power dynamics stemming from class/racial/gender hierarchies. The fact that the norm was to accept this as reality was confusing and vexing. I do not think I was ever as angry as Anzaldua was when she wrote “Borderlands,” but her emotional honesty is pretty liberating, especially when she touches upon how these opposing factors can lead to internalized self-hate and devaluation.

Another argument Anzaldua makes is one against oversimplified dichotomies, especially the ones that are used to hurt women. She uses the virgin / puta dichotomy, which I was aware of from as far back as I can remember. The assumption still remains that if you are a “good” woman, you must maintain your chastity and purity. I don’t think anyone’s self-worth, regardless of gender, should be determined by carnal shame. Anzaldua goes further to explore how female sexuality was not always rejected by dominant culture, but rather was a byproduct of Spanish hegemony over Native social freedoms.

Finally, all of the arguments Anzaldua makes are rooted in emphasizing agency for those of us who exist within these borderlands. She emphasizes the power of her own choices, especially when drawing from different parts of the different cultures/traditions to make sense of herself. She makes her arguments for how different cultures have hurt other cultures, but she does not demonize anything other than the acts of oppression and subjugation. There is no superior identity or zeitgeist. Anzaldua wants her readers to make decisions for themselves, and that is pretty dope.