I am not you.
I am not you.
For… I am a
privileged Indian male.
I was but a bubbly
toddler when I first heard,
“Oh no, let him be,
he is a boy…”
I was but an acne’d
teen when I first heard,
“Here, I will wash your
plate.”
I was but a confused
youth when I first heard,
“Boys will be boys,
let him play a while more.”
I was but a wobbly
toddler when I first heard,
“Look how he pushes
and fights! He is a boy…”
I was but a hormonal
dude of a teen when I first heard,
“You must be hungry,
let me cook you something.”
I was but a raging
drunk youth when I first heard,
“He is after all a
boy, he is supposed to be this way.”
I was but a drooling
toddler when I first heard,
“Lucky for you, he
is a boy…”
I was but a silent
teen when I first heard,
“Home Science? That’s
not for you; cooking and what not!”
I was but a
temperamental youth when I first heard,
“Be a man! You can’t
let girls affect you like that!”
These voices, they
grew; all around me,
They grew every day,
in numbers
And in tone.
The voices were
always there…
Each of them
feminine,
An aunt. A mother. A
sister.
A grandmother. A
cousin.
Now.
A mother-in-law. A
wife.
A sister-in-law. A
mother.
An aunt. A
grandmother.
All feminine. Mostly
feminine.
Now.
I hear them speak
the same words.
The same words from
decades ago.
They speak it to my
son.
They speak it to my
nephew.
They speak it to my
little brother.
Why?
Why can’t you stop?
I don’t want.
I don’t want to
Be defined.
I don’t want.
I don’t want to
Live… live the life
Of a privileged
Indian male.
You make me lean on
you.
You make me
incapable
Of looking after my
needs.
You never set me
free.
Yet, you treat me
like
I am privileged.
I want these voices
to stop.
Can you make them stop?
I can feel my chains
giving way,
Tearing away…
From the reality
that is mine,
Weighed down by your
words.
I don’t want.
I don’t want to
Carry this burden.
I don’t want.
I don’t want to
Love… love the life
Of a privileged
Indian male.
[Female voices of ancestors in loud whispers
and strange tongues]
Innocence. Tie she
up. Kill she. My boy. Want boy. No she want here. Please see me. Destroyer of
dreams. My boy. Want boy. Jewelry… pretty, we like. Parade she front of
neighbours and relatives. My boy. Want boy. Red dot, we no like. Hate we be woman.
Sit she down. Tie she up. Give she away. My boy. Want boy.
