Here's the thing--
I don't like to lie.
So, if you asked me where I am from,
I'd have to assess you and your prejudices before announcing in a single breath --

"I am a Malayali from Bombay raised in Saudi Arabia."

My identity comes in as a triple threat.
And people treat me like an escaped convict
"Oh, how many burqas do you own?"
"Four, and they're still not enough to save me from your ridiculous questions."

I don't like to lie.
So, I'll tell you I've had a terrible day
and the best thing that happened to me today was lunch.

I will voluntarily admit that my feet hurt in those shoes
And I'd rather be at home.
But, my pen refused to stop writing.

I choose not to wrap my truths in acceptability
Because my identity does not need to be graded
(not like I deserve less than an A+)
I decided to let my bottom sit on a throne in my own mind
Rather than at the feet of self-proclaimed lords of the universe
I'll fix my sights on what's here today.

I'm a queen of my own will;
Of shoes that fit
and jeans that never will.

I am also confused and I write to confuse some more.
Maybe I'll just wrap myself in words
And hand myself over to you and say --
"Congrats! It's a story."