Look I write something! I’m actually trying to perform this for the One World show my school has every year. I just auditioned it today, so let’s hope for the best <3
Still have to work of some of it, but most of it is here.
Diaspora
Dysphoria
I
am a child of diaspora.
Last
name I have no ties to,
First
name my mother heard on Sesame Street,
Names
give me no solace.
My
mama’s mama was a product of love soured
By
a nationwide obsession with race and colour:
A
story of a baby too brown
For
anyone but her mother to love.
A
story that comes back ‘round to me when they say,
‘Psst,
t’ick sauce wit’ de nice hair.’
They
call me dougla.
By
the time I outgrew my obsession with bindis and tikas
And
my one true dream to be bollywood dancer,
Classmates
told me I was too proper to be black.
They
call me dougla.
But
ever so often I throw around mulatto
And
try and forget the oppression behind it.
Two
generations later, I have no ties to coco panyol
Other
than passing mention.
The
only name I have for this,
The
only name I have for me,
Is
confused.
At
home they say, ‘dougla, what yuh mix wit’?’
But
here they say black is black.
‘Are
you ashamed?’
Am I ashamed?
Not
of the blackness
Or
the whiteness
Or
the Indian-ness
Or
the Syrian-ness
Or
the whatever-else-it-have-ness.
Just
confused.
Because
things like race have always baffled me.
Because
race implies someone must win.
Because
when I look in the mirror
And
I see the roundness of my nose,
The
curliness of my hair,
The
sharpness of my cheeks
And
the brownness of my skin,
I
am neither ashamed nor confused;
just
euphoric.
