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gbye Aug 2022
i am not easy to love

i whisper it into the breath i blow across the cup filled with steaming tea

i am not easy to love

i trace the words into the stone at my finger tips as i gaze at the water rushing over the edge of the cliff

i am not easy to love

my mind chants as i open my palm to catch the fallen dice

all this time later, a decade and a half, it was time to write the truth in stone for us both

“i am not easy to love”
Weird conversations that only desi girls have.
Dreamer Jun 2020
There are aunties all around us, appreciating their daughters,
"Meri beti khana bohat acha banati hai"
"Meri beti ne tou pura ghar sambhala hai"

And then comes me.....who has a lazy **** to even make morning chair;(
vern Apr 2019
I am a small and expressive six-year-old
I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family
I wear a bindi
My hands are decorated with mehndhi¹
I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors
I wore a little churi daar
²
And everyone teased me
“She has a disease?”
“Why is there a dot on your forehead?”
“You look funny”
A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too.
I get a few compliments but the rest hurt
I never wore a bindi in front of them again
I washed my hands to rid the orange stains
I never wear my Indian clothes
I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old
I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six
They wear the dots that I had worn
They decorate their hands with what they call “henna”
It wasn’t an Indian holiday
I’m a little hurt
Why was I teased?
But they are praised
“It’s aesthetically pleasing?”
“The bindi is indie”
Do not tease me for my culture
And then take it for your own praise
Is that even fair?
Do you think that’s fair?
some thoughts about cultural appropriation
1. henna in intricate patterns
2. an Indian outfit prominent in Gujarat, worn during holiday celebrations
Nuha Fariha Jul 2017
When I was thirteen my mother
Took a rose and crushed it
Letting the thorns ***** into her sides
Pinpoints of blood blushing on her arm

“This is what a man does to a woman,
What he takes and what cannot be
Restored, this what you must endure
This is what your family must endure
Because you are a woman.”

So is it any wonder that when you
Pushed yourself inside without asking
I did not stop you, that I only closed
My eyes and saw the image of that
Crushed red rose lying limp
Between my mother’s feet

— The End —