covidtry

[covidtry]

[boxes]

As life began I grew up unaware of the spaces I filled, the boxes I checked, the things I represent. I was normal.

<12: In Brazil American Indian The girl who wears shorts

I was just a kid, among all the other kids with brown, black, blonde hair, curly, wavy, straight. I wasn’t blind to race, but I had not yet realized my place in its larger scheme. Being blonde didn’t give you the upper hand on our playground. Climbing the tallest tree did.

Aunties pinched my cheeks. I hated it because it hurt.

12-18: Catholic School in the USA Foreign Brazilian? Indian? White?

First day of freshman year, I am excited that my locker neighbor is owned by a girl who looked like she might have some latino roots - Finally, someone I could relate to.

Where are you from? I asked. I'm from here, with a smirk she replied. But...where are you parents from? Peru. Cool! Do you speak Spanish? Not really. We never spoke about it again.

18-25: College and adulthood Mixed? Half and half? Latina? White? American? POC? Exotic?

Latino Student Association, meeting 1: how did you hear about us? how did you hear about us?

***

Eating out.

My mom and I go out to eat. We ask for the bill. The waitress returns with separate checks. Just because I don't look like her doesn't mean she isn't my mom.

I don't have any money. She cares for me.

***

Naperville.

I discovered the hometown of a best friend It was idyllic, to say the least. An Indian family waits at the train station. I feel happy they've achieved the American Dream: idyllic suburbia. But where are they on Naperville's mural?

We stay up late with her dad, exchanging stories I share that my (white) friend Marlena doesn't shower everyday, and I think it's awesome. Were they Indian? her dad asks. No, I answer. Why? Oh, it's just...sometimes they smell a certain way.

Dad...[Me] is Indian Oh.

That's quite disrespectful, don't you think? Just because someone smells different to you doesn't mean it's bad. It smells like home to me.

But no, that's not what I said.

It's ok, I know our food is smelly. The shame I still feel.

***

US Census.

One simple box led to three hours of hell. How do I fight for my identity when I’m not sure of it myself?

>27: Beyond. Privileged American South Asian Mixed race POC?

It’s 2020. And I’ve come to reckon that my phenotype is but a roll of the dice

What would my life me like if the dice had rolled two shades darker?

I should ask my brother.

My speeding violations say it all: Three in four years. Pulled over multiple times. Never once harassed. Reckless driving, he could have said, as they told my mom.

But instead: I don’t want to ruin your Christmas, he said.

Five years later, I look up my driving records. Only to realize That the box checked To him To them is White.

***

Who am I? Am I where I am from?

Where am I from?

Am I my blood? Whose blood am I?

Am I how I talk? What I eat? How I dress? What I cook? Who I spend time with? My ringtone?

Place does and does not determine my race. Blood does and does not determine my race. How I look does not determine my race.

Yet my identity is under threat by the boxes that constrain me.

***

Aunties pinched my cheeks. I hated it because it hurt. But now I hate it more because they wanted to see how White I am.

[covidtry]

Normal

A girl greets the crosswalk guard as she walks to the gate. Yet, what might have been a hug, high-five, or handshake before is now reduced to a foot-bump. 

Seconds later, a father walks his daughter to the gate. Like other parents, he too, is masked. His daughter, however, free. “I love you, daddy,” she says, and runs off. 

Has life returned to normal?  I sit by my window, let the fresh air in. I overhear the voice of children walking up our street - they bicker. But what is the topic? Mountain biking. They can’t agree on what is it. One pushes a bike that looks two times too large for him. 

Has life returned to normal?  One street over, I walk down the hill. I begin to hear singing. It’s someone’s birthday. Visitors at the door, but dare not cross the threshold. A curious young neighbor sticks her head out the window. 

Is this normal? 

What will our children think? 

[covidtry]

Lately

I’ve wondered

Will it ever Be my turn?

The answer I so desperately wish to know Yet If I did Would life be the same?

[covidtry]

Untitled

Does a relationship friendship count when reduced to words audios hidden smiles?

words exchanged though miles away somehow more intimate than before

distance overcome

yet when life returns smiles exposed will we carry the same on our sleeves?