Trust me, I'm not one to share poetry. I'm not really one to write poetry if I'm going to be honest. But this poem is kind of special and important to me because it's about being an Indian American woman in Michigan and what that means, especially when you're a kid.

I've always known that I'm Indian, but I didn't ever really think that that was something to make me different. I didn't really understand what it meant to be a race other than white in this country. Slowly, though, it became more and obvious to me that I am different. At first, this difference is crippling, because you feel inadequate, you feel less than. Until you begin to realize that it's a strength, not a weakness.

So, with much courage, here's a poem that I would like to share with you.

October 31st

The best day of the year

When you’re 10 years old

Graduation from Bumble Bee

Lady Bug, Minnie Mouse

Costumes

And a trip to big kid world

With make up

Complexity to design-

For looks more than cold-weather coverage

With fancy shoes

With my head held high,

I was Jodha

The Mughal Empress of India,

The beauty of the land, sharp, bright,

A swordswoman, forced into marriage

But never a coward.

I was beautiful, strong. I looked like a queen

Golden long, flowing skirt

Drapes over my shoulder

Heavy, plastic, jewelry

A face caked in brown foundation

Thanks mom, for the 6 AM

Dressing room session before the school parade

I walked into school,

Through big double doors

Heads turning, I imagined

Camera flashing.

There were spidermans and

Cinderellas brown bags and spongebobs

There were crayons and ninja turtles and power rangers

supermans and bumblebees

And Minnie mouses and mickeys

But I

I was different

I was elegant

I was brown, fundamentally Indian

Even on the one day that I could be anything I wanted

Anything

I paraded, my payals chun chun chunning

Through the hallways

I smiled, lipstick turning my mouth much bigger than it really was

Turning my smile much bigger

Than it really was

I won Best Girls Costume!

Thanks mom

But

I won

As a

Gypsy.

“Put your hands together for the young girl in the

GYPSY costume! What a great job!”

A panel of judges, bright light white

I explained, I’m Jodha

“Hush, hush, go back to your place now.”

Hush

Hush

Go back

To your place now

A bone hand on my shoulder

Hush hush

Back to my place now

But kids are resilient

They bounce back

Faster than sponges

I bounced back off the roof

My usual

I swayed my skirts around and

Hummed my songs

On the playground I was the queen

This was my kingdom

The kids looked at me weird

They asked

What are you

They asked it like

Why are you

I told them

But kids are resistant

They don’t get the things they don’t get

They said that’s weird who’s that

They said is that what a gypsy is

They said why didn’t you be jasmine

They said

They said

I explained

But they said

I’m tired

I went trick or treating

I had my coat

I had my pumpkin candy bag

I had my skirt

My drapes

My jewels

And I chun chun chunned through the streets

White moon over my shoulder

The first door I knocked on

Was Italian Mrs. Humphrey

Tall, dressed in black

Like ink on a fresh clear page

Cat ears barely visible

Cat eyes staring deep into my

Brown

Brown

Pools

“And what are you dressed as tonight?”

a sigh

“A gypsy.”