Texas, India.
My cousin,
a girl of fourteen,
huge for her age and gender
while puberty has nothing to do
with it, probably the genes,
her mother’s side,
the large built, outspoken
without any guilt,
not fair, not enough,
and when I say that it is not in the family,
maybe it is a little racist of me
or maybe not:
when it comes to family
things are not like that —
every new born in my family
is supposed to be fair,
pretty and white.
Indian white.
It could be considered culture
if anything.
I remember my other aunt saying
the other day
of my other newly born cousin:
‘the first time I saw him,
I was like, he didn’t look like one
of our kids.’
And then for the next few weeks,
she bathed him and powdered him
and scrubbed him
till the ‘upper crust of dirt’ wore off
and ‘the inner beauty shone out,’
as she put it.
A common practitioner,
I don’t think she is even aware
of the term racism,
or what lives matter.
It’s all family tradition to her.
- More? Sure —
