To be brown is to
know racism in every shade -
internal,
or
external,
microaggression
or
aggression.

To be brown is
an inquisition,
every time you step foot outside –
“What are you?”
“What does your name mean?”
“Have you tried that restaurant?”
“Have you been back?
“What religion are you?”
“Say something in your language!”

To be brown is
the shame
of either
too much
or not enough,
that you try to
press down, ignore,
forget about -
don’t be so sensitive.

To be brown is
an investment,
the way you are always supposed to
rise and rise and rise,
have the opportunities of the west
and the values of the east,
marry a nice brown heterosexual,
go to graduate school,
have a good career,
earn more money than your parents did,
be safe and settled,
provide for your parents,
your parents,
who only pressure you
and push you
because they want you to be

happy.

To be brown is
diaspora,
the way your tongue
trips over the words of native languages
you never grew up speaking
because English was always taught
first
to generations before you,
the way you weren’t born with
any real community,
and even now
most of your friends
are white,
the way
you have to move in the world
hearing your name
mispronounced in every way imaginable,
the way you
scan the room
for any brown face
because you know
a brown person will
understand,
the way you realize
how often you are the only
brown body
in any space,
queer or straight,
the way you really are a
minority.

To be brown is
reclamation,
the way you learn to
find beauty in the brown and the hair
and the body type,
the way you learn to
let yourself feel Anger
at appropriation,
the way you learn to fight
for identity –
correct the mispronunciations
learn the language,
listen to the music,
cook the food,
wear the clothes,
go back to the country
learn the history,
do what you need to do
in your
imperfect
perfect
way,
****
what anyone says.

To be brown
is to be
enough.

in a dark of frenzy it boils up inside
until summarily and inexplicably
see the colour between brown and blue
more than see it, immerse myself in it
swimming slowly in its clouds
see the colour between brown and blue
everywhere votive candles light
the colour between brown and blue
with slender tapers that touch a life
any life, your life
casting strange shadows, loose shadows
between the colour of brown and blue
children swarm, children with bright white
starvation hair, children with hands
like small worn mittens
who raise red swarms in hot worn out
death laden dust
dust that cauterizes the nostrils
with the stench of penurious insanity
the colour between brown and blue
that inveigles a purchase of flies
bottle blue, black blue, green blue,
swarming blue, swirling whirling blue
a black and blue confetti of flies
then the sudden zero of the
colour between brown and blue
hair raising, command faith
willed, willing, mumbling, murmuring
the excitement of writing between
the colour of brown and blue
trees shake and tremble
words regurgitate themselves like hot
food, the bark, write
now fully electrically charged
seized by the colour between brown and blue
forget everything else, write, write more, more, write
trembling with sudden shudders of merciless
vowels, madness penurious pencil
moves across, demanding paper
pushing worn words, worthy words whittled by use
words not yet written, words of wonder
oh what words
beautiful, baffling,baleful, words
with beastly beatitudes, words that conjure the mind
words between brown and blue
that leave you skinny like a stray dog
words so demanding leave you shut up in an
airless abattoir of high energy and low residue
the colour between brown and blue
where everywhere is everywhere else
touched by the flames of the colour between brown and blue

You’re afraid of heights and I of depth
The fear of not having anything to fall back onto
Or the fear of not having something to stand on no matter how wreck-less you allow your mistakes to be
Depth goes in all dimensions, doesn’t it?

It doesn’t stop at deep dark waters
It continues its way through my veins
Through baseless strength and unstable reasons
The look of darkness that finishes into nothingness

It stops at undoubting resilience which I cannot reach

I still like looking into it though, it thrills me
A second, a push and it’ll take me to that resilience or into nothingness
But it scares you, only because it comes from a height
It makes your stomach turn and hands weak
Not of what’s inside of that but of what it takes to get there

It was sometime between 11:30 pm and midnight

You’re afraid of heights and I of depth
You know, the one that stops at undoubting resilience
One which I cannot reach
It makes me sick and my chest feels hollow
My fingers look for grip
And my legs usually shake

But last night I wasn’t afraid
When you pulled my hand back
as I leaned against the edge of the wall above Thames
There was this radiance in your eyes
Brown, which people don’t talk about enough when they exemplify the beauty of eyes

Brown, the depth of which I hadn’t faced before
But I refused to be afraid of
Uncertain if the depth grew with my fingers shaking or your stomach turning

Your brown
Of how its succumbed with restlessness when you’re drunk
Of concern and constant pressure of not losing control of your shield
But still so pure
The hue which deepens when you talk about the person you love
Repeatedly, because you find words insufficient
And of how sometimes you leave traces to the problems you never speak about
The colour that grows deeper the more you look into it
The colour that nurtures the light of the laughter of the people you care about

The brown that falls asleep in complete innocence
Letting down all your guard during so
Slowly, part by part
The one which looks at me with sub-consciousness when your arms pull me in
The gradient that tries to make sure I have company till I pass out
The depth of which I don’t know if I’m scared of

2 hours later it was almost 2 am, and

You’re afraid of heights and I of depth
You know, the one that stops at undoubting resilience
But last night I think I wasn’t afraid
There was this radiance in your eyes
Radiance bright enough to show me the lighter side of depth

It grew brighter with every acceptance of your feelings
And darker with the realization of so
A shade darker every time I tried to draw meaning out of it
Dark to the hue of your afternoon tiredness
As you gently traced delicate lines with your fingers on my back
And softly locked our bodies together, your breath warming my neck
To no fall, nor any height
No stomach turns or shaky legs

It’s way past dawn almost 9am now,
My sleep breaks to realizations

You’re still afraid of heights and I of depth
But last night your brown carried me away
I was still afraid of depths as much as you were of heights
It’s just that your brown was almost a glorified one
One that gently looked at me with assurance

Your brown
Brown, which people don’t talk about enough when they exemplify the beauty of eyes
The brown that I looked into as the sunlight illuminated its light
Your morning brown
Your lightest brown
Which hardly lasted a minute
The best hue, gradient and gold that it could turn to be
Looking around with a blur
Only until it grows back to its darkest shade,
Deeper than the waters last night
Putting your guard back on

It’s way past dawn almost 9am now
My sleep breaks to realizations
You’re still afraid of heights, and I of depth
I’d say you know the drill by now
But this morning, the branches of your umber grew back onto me