This is not my story
I am not sharmeeli
with my brown eyes cast to the floor
red lips hidden behind a red veil
quiet and silent and a Savitri
devoted to a man and his family and our family
My brown eyes will turn you to stone
when you and your friends
tell me to smile
ask for my number
follow me where I walk
My lips will shred you to pieces
when you tell me to stay in my place
stay in the kitchen
stay home
don’t come back late
and I will paint my lips red with your shame
when you can’t bear to hear a girl talk back
This is not my story
I am not a doctor
an engineer
a housewife
a bridesmaid (but better than a bride)
a sidekick but never the heroine
Who says brown girls can’t
dress in leather and heels
and wield stakes and slay demons
wield a bow and arrow and lead
a revolution against the empire
This is not my story
I will not confine myself to your boxes
I am not a model
minority
daughter
sister
wife
I will draw on my goddesses
my Durga
Parvati
Kali
and I will stride across the battlefield
and leave a bloodied trail of
your words
your images
your stereotypes
in my wake
© Bhavna Vasnani, 18/04/2017