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.”
