Bleach blonde hair that constantly needs repair from the chemical damage and withering dryness. Frayed tips from compressed heated plates to straighten out those wild, thick , curls. Pulled and plucked, wax, and tear away hair from every part of your body. Why did I inherit so much from my father? More bleach to strip away the melanin that protects me from the harsh sun. I want to be striped bare of my identity and the strength that was inbuilt my skin. Now my strength has become my weakness. Blotchy, fragile, pain, damaged has replaced strong, vibrant, rich, and lovely. Eschew any accents or languages that remotely sound like my own tongue. I’ve replaced every part of me, what is one more? Telugu, Tamil, Hindi, Marathi, Guajarati, Bangladeshi flow like an undulating river caressing a luscious and fertile land. I rather ravage the land with the harsh consonants of my oppressor, because the oppressor owns all.
My bare feet used to mingle with the earth and feel it’s heart beat. Now, they have ascended into the vacuum above in sparkling stiletto jimmy choos. My forefathers and mothers were farmers, textile weavers, herders, princes, princesses, warriors, potters, mathematicians, philosophers, writers, poets, dancers, playwrights, actors, singers, adventurers, rishis , sadhus, yogis, kings, queens, travelers, merchants, healers, lawyers, activists, metal workers, miners, architects, great builders, blacksmiths, ect..
And they all had your almond brown eyes, your thick black hair, your lobed ears, your dark brown beautiful skin, your melodic vocabulary, your tough feet, your strong legs, your strong arms, your intelligence and curiosity, your compassion, your resourcefulness, your wisdom, your sense of community, your motivation and passion, your hearty laugh and mischievous smile. They have all been there and have been there from the very beginning. A thousand generations live within every foot fall. A thousand generations have been where you been, and they thrived. We are almost countless, and spread throughout the world. Not always by our own means and desires, but we are here billions strong.
Those ties and relations to our ancestors, our ways of life, to the land have been dissolved, reshaped, changed, remolded, redistributed. But ,you can really can’t take away that mathi that nourished your feet, your food, and your skin.
We have been greatly influenced by the many forces of globalization, westernization, neoliberalism, liberalism, capitalism, industrialization, migration, colonialization. In some ways we adapted, in some ways we assimilated, in some ways we lost our way. In some ways, we lost our way. But, the way back is looking clearer ahead as generations have rebuilt, recovered, and found a new way.
In this new way, know that you stand on the shoulders of giants. Your job isn’t to crush these monoliths and carve out your own from their flesh. But rather learn from them, gain strength from their noble deeds and virtues. And ascend higher and become wiser.
To form a new world, we must burn away the wines that grow around the age-old tree. Those wines weren’t always there. They weren’t always there to put you in a strangle hold between the past and the present, east and the west. Those wines are new, the tree was always there with branches that soar higher than the sky. With bushy and broad leaves that stretch out wide for all to see. A massive trunk that encircles every lokum. And roots that stretch far and wide as the steppes of Mongolia to the Volcanos of Indonesia.
Dark girl, dark as night and mother Bhumi learn to love your skin again.