I Am Not

"I can't stand them with their ugly inch-thick eye liner, fake lashes and straight hair. But don't worry, you're not one them."

"If you're not, what are you?"

I was told, I was not,

I have not the grace of ruler for hair,

nor the fervently desired ivory length of skin.

I do not have hairless legs and arms.

I was told, I cannot be. I am defeated by

my utensil that garners food but not tradition,

the insolence to pit logic against prescribed philosophical values,

my dreams in a language so flat and terrifying to my ancestors.

I was told, I would never attract,

the industrious, the filial,

the responsible, the thrifty.

I was told, because I am not,

the harder I should try to be.

To please my father’s mother, to match my cousins,

hopefully find a generous man, a forgiving mother-in-law,

to not mind

what I do not have.

I was told, it does not matter who I am,

But what I am.

I have landscape for eyes and sun for skin,

but plenty of the vowel “I” in my name.

I was told, I am everything.

I inherit various countries

from opinions. I work the domestics. I have a Bachelor’s degree.

Cheap brown kohl imitates eyebrows.

I am lazy. I am a flirt.

This is why I do not look,

this is why I am not,

for others cannot bear for me to be.