(Third Generation Punjabi and English)
I am
I am exotic,
I am envied,
for my lucious, tanned skin,
Brown and glowing in the summer months,
Waves and curls flowing from my head,
And my almond eyes topped with long curvy eyelashes,
I am exotic,
(but) I am a trend,
my features can all be bought, tried on,
My eyes, my brows, my skin worn like a costume,
My heritage bottled down to a (passing) trend,
My (ugly), bushy eyebrows are suddenly cool,
Yet you tell me im ”so beautiful, so lucky”, that you’re jealous,
You say “Are you mixed or something?”,
You ask me “where are you from?”,
Interrogating my identity as if it’s something I wear on my sleeve,
Investigating my identity as if its owed to you,
My identity causing distress because others cant make sense of me,
Because I am exotic,
Because I am different,
Because I am mixed,
I am healthy,
Mixed genes from both sides,
Indian and english, whole worlds away,
Both boosting my immunity,
Making me healthier, better, stronger,
And yet sometimes I am more vulnerable,
“BAME need vitamin D supplements”,
Catarax in the family,
Lung cancer on my dads side,
Breast cancer on my mums,
So am I any healthier?
But whether I am healthy or not, why am I not allowed to be whole?
I’m bored of the percentages, fractions, the data,
Just look at my parents,
That is where I came from, influenced who I am,
And I am brilliant, and I’m beautiful and I’m blessed,
But apparently I am also
modern,
I am smart,
I am the face of the London Olympics
The face of the modern family
The face of desire and lust
The face of ambiguity
I am everyone and no-one
I am yours to question
I am less and I am more
I am neither black nor white,
White nor brown
Tanned nor pale,
Asian or English,
I am stuck in the middle.
I am stuck
Who am I?