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I’m that girl

Written by Indu on . Posted in Writer's Space

Note: This is a edited version of the entry I wrote in my own blog long time ago, in response to a meme started by Mercermachine

I'm that girl. Yes, that girl, whom at 8, felt older than the rest of the world. I'm that girl who climbed trees and played soccer and cricket with the boys, yet loved her Barbie Dolls. I'm that girl who was always on the outside, no matter where she went.

I'm that girl who is always so resistant to change, yet when it actually happens, she adapts like a chameleon. I'm that girl who played alone in the playground of her new flat, because she didn't know anyone in this new country. I'm that girl who made a hobby of going up and down in the elevators of HDB blocks, because it was all so new to her.

I'm that girl who then grew up and fell in love with you. I was the one who would make all kinds of excuses to be with you, even though she didn't know why. I'm that girl who thought you were beautiful even when you were drenched, exhausted, and had a pimple on your nose.

I'm that girl, who told you her love by the seaside, waves lapping up on the shore of Sentosa, knowing you could never reciprocate. I was the girl who then watched you walk away from me, after you most politely rejected me because. I was a girl.

I'm that girl, who said no because she didn't want to break your heart with the pain of distance. I'm that girl who still loves you from afar.

I am the girl now, who watches your every move now, every facial expression and gesture. I am the girl who flushes every single time you speak to me. I am that girl, who gets irrationally jealous when others get near you, boy or girl.

I'm that girl, who lost your friendship when I told you I was bisexual. I'm the one, who loves men and women, but presents only one side to the world for the fear of losing more of you.

I’m that girl who is politely cast out of the community because she refuses to conform to any label. I’m that girl who has to ignore her own heritage in order to function anywhere.

I’m that girl, who has everything and nothing at the same time. I’m that girl, who is always caught between two conflicting worlds, and can find no way to heal the rift.

Yeah, I'm that girl. So who are you?

Racy Racism

Written by Sheila on . Posted in Writer's Space

A column by Sheila on being a minority of a minority and thoughts on being politically incorrect.

Many don’t like that I talk about this

Its there, can’t be ignored.

I am a sari wearing, spice eating brown woman. what’s wrong with that!!!!

I have been told I am too angry.

My lover’s mother told her, “Don’t care if you a queer just have a chinese gf!”

Doused in perfume by another whose mother say Indians smell bad.

Another tells me that I have to be a submissive little Indian wife.

Everywhere I hang out, I hang my indianess at the door.

Have you seen a sari-clad chick making out at a bar?

In the faceless internet. I am asked. What race are you?

WELL. I am just racy, in my sari clad chest-busting blouse kind of way.

I am tired of reaching out, tired of looking.

Is there not one woman that can feed me thosai?

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