Humming n Weaving Rebellion by preyanka
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this is a part of a poem I wrote about race, gender, class, labor, disability& colonialism in the context of my blood family. I feel like it reflects themes like humxn/machine, womxn of color's invsibilized labor, and expectations of labor (whose labor is valid & recognized) by empire. I also think it brings in the bodily and emotional pain and violence of these expectations and the patriarchy it reinforces in my family. This is under a desi indian hindu immigrant context
mama hums again
between paprika & turmeric collisions
and the sizzle of elaichi seeds
as they swarm into flaming
morning chai water
she bursts with prayers craving the non-arthritis kataria body she used to dance with
and erupts with
wild electric singing and humor
of old school melodies in hindi
her boiling punjabi rants
about love, neglect, and trauma
whirl in the steamy air
to rebirth nostalgia
of haryana, india playful
childhood days
ruptured
with the raid of english
frocks and american tunes
bruising her love
for dhol beats and dupatas
and her almond colored flesh
mama hums
against the boom of my
papa’s empire pleasing glare
his mouth forced to shame his hindi & maltani rhythms & pre-partition pakistani roots
then told to divulge in mathematical accountant skills
devour the british pedagogies polluting his dehli educations
so this hoarding nation’s eyes
could leech on
his spirit
try to make his body transform into the machine they need
paint his compliant labor
as america’s successful immigrant tale
paint his homeland as “behind” and “uncivilized”
between paprika & turmeric collisions
and the sizzle of elaichi seeds
as they swarm into flaming
morning chai water
she bursts with prayers craving the non-arthritis kataria body she used to dance with
and erupts with
wild electric singing and humor
of old school melodies in hindi
her boiling punjabi rants
about love, neglect, and trauma
whirl in the steamy air
to rebirth nostalgia
of haryana, india playful
childhood days
ruptured
with the raid of english
frocks and american tunes
bruising her love
for dhol beats and dupatas
and her almond colored flesh
mama hums
against the boom of my
papa’s empire pleasing glare
his mouth forced to shame his hindi & maltani rhythms & pre-partition pakistani roots
then told to divulge in mathematical accountant skills
devour the british pedagogies polluting his dehli educations
so this hoarding nation’s eyes
could leech on
his spirit
try to make his body transform into the machine they need
paint his compliant labor
as america’s successful immigrant tale
paint his homeland as “behind” and “uncivilized”