ISSUE NO. 8 DECEMBER 2019
1
Letter from the Editor Hi, I’m OnYou. For those who are not familiar with Colour, we are a magazine created by students at Washington University in St. Louis. Colour aims to highlight the narratives of students of color and the local community of color. We strive to provide opportunities for people of color to have our voice heard and tell our stories. My vision for Colour is for it to serve as a learning opportunity for people who have not heard enough about lives of people of color. This is not meant to be just for the White folks, but also for people of color who do not know much about stories of other people of color outside of their races. Hope you enjoy.
Sincerely, OnYou Kang Editor-in-Chief Colour
2
Content
3
10
La Vie en Bleu
16
Betrayal in Gold
20
Genesis
26
Look at Me
28
Fuji’s Eyes
36
Water/Color
38
Joyous Excess
44
When Thrown Against a White Background
48
Surrealities
54
School to Prison Pipeline
56
GOCRAZYAHHHHHHGOSTUPID
64
Five Little Letters
4
THE TEAM
The Team
THE TEAM
Editor in Chief Co-Editor in Chief Treasurer
OnYou Kang Bersabeh Zenebe Jelani Deajon-Jackson
Events Director
Rob Hall
Social Media Director
Rob Hall
Senior Designer
Brandon Wilburn
Senior Photographer
Brandon Wilburn
Senior Editor Content Creators
Saima Choudhury Colleen Avila Tyler Burston Saima Choudhury Galen Hicks Genesis McCree OnYou Kang Ahmed Motiwala Thomas No Rachel Paulk Josie Robinson
Designers
OnYou Kang Andriana Levytsky Jinny Park Kristina You Bersabeh Zenebe
Social Media Team
Tinuola Adebukola Lianne Kang
5
6
THE TEAM
Colleen Avila Content Creator
Tyler Burston Content Creator
Saima Choudhury Senior Editor
Jelani Deajon-Jackson Treasurer
Rob Hall Events/Social Director
Galen Hicks Content Creator
Lianne Kang Social Media Designer
OnYou Kang Editor in Chief
Andriana Levytsky Designer
THE TEAM
Genesis McCree Content Creator
Ahmed Motiwala Content Creator
Thomas No Senior Editor
Jinny Park Designer
Rachel Paulk Content Creator
Josie Robinson Content Creator
Brandon Wilburn Senior Designer
Kristina You Designer
Bersabeh Zenebe Co-Editor in Chief
7
10
LA VIE EN BLEU
Kristina You
Blue has always been my favorite color. I love the different meanings that blue holds in different cultures and at different points of history. Whether it means feeling down or symbolizes royalty and rarity, the word and color hold such sentimental potential. These photos are my visual representation of “life in blue�. (Lyrics written by King Krule)
LA VIE EN BLEU
11
12
LA VIE EN BLEU
BETRAYAL COMES IN LA GOLD VIE EN BLEU
13
14
LA VIE EN BLEU
LA VIE EN BLEU
15
16
BETRAYAL COMES IN GOLD
Betrayal Comes In Gold Saima Choudhury
I love looking at old pictures of my mom. Even when
Rewind eight years, and I’m in eighth grade, sitting
she was supposed to look like an awkward teenager,
in class at a table of white girls. “Ugh, my arms are
like I did at the same age, she always looked
so hairy. It’s like I have Indian arms,” one of the
elegantly beautiful. One of my favorite pictures is
aforementioned white girls proclaims in disgust. While
from her wedding day. She was nineteen and, of
I am not Indian, I assume this white girl is most likely
course, stunning. She’s looking off to the side with
generalizing all South Asians as Indian (as many
a glass bottle of Coca-Cola in her hand, smiling
people do) and look down at my brown, hairy arms.
radiantly. And like most South Asian brides on their
When I got home from school that day, I shaved my
wedding days, she’s fully adorned in gold jewelry,
arms for the first and last time. This was just one
including a nose ring attached to a chain tucked
instance of young Saima unsuccessfully trying to
behind her ear.
whitewash her brownness away. I didn’t think about the fact that my hairy arms and legs came with thick,
I am unequivocally of the opinion that Eurocentric
dark eyelashes and long, curly hair. All I could think
beauty standards belong in the garbage. I try to
about were “Indian arms” and how undesirable they
convince my younger sister she doesn’t need to
seemed.
pluck her eyebrows to “fix the shape,’’ as she puts it, I love how unapologetically brown my skin gets
If you had asked me a few years ago why I wouldn’t
after a long summer day, and I am definitely not into
get my nose pierced, I probably would have said
the blond hair, blue eyes look. I know that unfair and
something silly about looking like a FOB (fresh off
lovely aren’t mutually exclusive and that I should
the boat) or being too stereotypically brown. Now if
take pride in my cultural heritage, but I still can’t
you were to ask me, I would say it’s because it would
bring myself to get a nose ring.
be a betrayal to the women who came before me.
BETRAYAL COMES IN GOLD
17
“Now if you were to ask me, I would say it’s because it would be a betrayal to the women who came before me.” Illustration by Bersabeh Zenebe
18
BETRAYAL COMES IN GOLD
Women like my mom, who uprooted herself to a
now would be to toss the women of my heritage
foreign country where the soil doesn’t weep for her
aside and declare Becky my vanilla queen.
the way it did in Bangladesh to create a space for herself and four daughters. Or like the unnamed
White women hijacking my culture and the culture of
garment worker in Dhaka whose bloodis woven into
other communities of color is nothing new. Intricate
my H&M pants.
mehendi (henna) designs and holud (turmeric) face
masks, once treasured relics of my South Asian
Or like Begum Rokeya and Sufia Kamal, Bangladeshi
upbringing, are now commonplace among white
activists whose writings, despite never appearing in
women. At this point it’s just a waiting game, trying
that one chapter on white feminism in elementary
to predict what they will deem fashionable and
school, were revolutionary for their time and for the
devour next. Personally, I hope it’s smelling like Indian
modern day.
food, so “Smells Like Curry” can be more than just an ironic name for my Spotify playlist of Desi songs.
Those women weren’t enough for me, but once Becky— with the Birkenstocks and the Instagram posts of her and her skinny white Becky friends at Coachella wearing matching flower crowns— got a nose ring, nose rings became cool. Once white women, the stewards of societal beauty standards, decided that nose rings were “in”, nose rings became edgy and desirable rather than foreign and weird. Nose rings went from a mark of otherness to a way to keep up with trends. To wear a nose ring
BETRAYAL COMES IN GOLD
“Women like my mom, who uprooted herself to a foreign country where the soil doesn’t weep for her the way it did in Bangladesh to create a space for herself and four daughters.”
19
20
GENESIS
GENESIS Josie Robinson
Hot to touch, these hands could grasp Entire lives within them Sometimes I squeezed too tightly And they’d melt through my fingers I’m sorry for all the puddles I’ve had to leave behind me
GENESIS
Sinfully sugary, You can taste every grain Something so satisfying Comes from feeling gentle progress. Fracturing a Masochist’s teeth, Some are left with bloody gums.
21
22
GENESIS
All sprung from Eden’s roots, The garden blooms dense in hues. Hot winds blow dust and ash; Hold fast, siblings. Feel our earth. The monster, posing as Messiah, Waits with closed eyes and Fist raised.
GENESIS
23
24
GENESIS
I have found a lacquered chest Poking out above the dirt With the lock defunct and stale, I look inside and see a tongue But it is only a newborn; It’s too weak to Lift my words.
One’s body is their trade, With blood as ink and skin like clay. Words are tools through which we form; Chiseled by grief, smoothed by love. Fear the hand of the consumer With full pockets and starved heart
GENESIS
25
26
LOOK AT ME
Genesis McCree
who am i?
i’m walking to class. walking in my dorm.
a question that sparks too much thinking.
walking to get food.
a question that brings doubt to your lessening
just walking.
confidence.
why do i feel like i need to justify my place?
i really thought i knew what i wanted in life.
why do you look at me like that?
i really did.
a look of questioning
i thought that life couldn’t get any harder than it already was.
as if i don’t belong as if i am not capable of being here
new place
no, i am not here for a check in the diversity
new me
box
new problems
no, i am not here for a check in the first gen box
you would think that being here would help. a school that promotes its diversity and
no, i belong
inclusion you would think that since it’s 2019, life
so look at me
would be different.
look at me as your equal
weren’t we all born in the same period?
i am not here to bring you down
a time where a person isn’t judged by the color
i am not here to hinder your growth
of their skin
so don’t hinder me
or the person they love
don’t look at me with that doubt
you would think it would be easy.
look at me
Illustration by Jinny Park
1
CYCLE OF ABUSE AND FORGIVENESS
FUJI’S EYES
FUJI’S EYES
Ahmed Motiwala
Disposable cameras are discarded after use, forgotten in the past, but the fruits of their labor are long lived. During the summer after high school graduation, I wanted to document the important transitional period of me and my friends between high school and college, the beginning of the rest of our lives. These photos depict stories that will remain in the past, but the memories will live on long after our stories are done, just like the camera used to take them.
29
36
WATER/COLOR
Water/Color Colleen Avila
I have submerged myself in parts of a me that I
the light arm hair, from the name brands, the ability
both know entirely and know not at all. I am me at
to have sleepovers, rewards for straight A’s, boys
home, me at school, me everywhere and nowhere,
who have crushes on you, being picked up by your
me perhaps only when I reflect on the fact that I
parents from soccer practice on time. So I escape
am everywhere and nowhere at once. But I always
into queerness.
know where. I sink into a lavender sea and I breathe water At home, I am brown against the world.
into my lungs, filling myself with the weight of groundedness and anxiousness. But how worth it
I grow up white. Growing up around so many white
it was to drown in solidarity, in a sort of pride that
people, it was hard not to. An innocent egocentrism
was rebellious against all else… there, we were
told me, “this is how everyone lives; you are no
all different; I ignore the blondeness out of self-
different from the rest of them.” I believed it for
preservation and relish in our us against the world.
so long, my only preoccupation my skills and my studies, an obsession with being better than the rest
At school, I am warm.
that would taunt me in my adolescent awkwardness. Then, no longer could I think of myself as smarter,
I look at pictures of my own birthday party and
more athletic, more artistic, better than the rest. I
smile. A frozen instant of pure brown joy, the
was not like them, and in the worst possible way. I
stillness of a pond and the chaos of a river. It washes
was ugly. I was undesirable. And the realization
over me. The search is no longer for well-behaved
was irreconcilable.
white people, digging through or gritting my teeth at supposed social liberality and fiscal conservatism.
At home, I am tinged lavendar. Here, I am intoxicated with affirmation and I crave solidarity. To exist in white spaces is
perpetually where I need to be, constantly enveloped
exhausting. I am drained from the blondness, from
in a warm mist that glimmers and obscures. My
Illustration by Colleen Avila
fingers are pruny with validtion.
endless stream which passes over all and never quite stays in one place long enough to become one
In know where, I am water.
with the rocks and trees.
I am where I am, flowing and fitting, clear and
I only hope that I am loved by them; I only hope that
colored at once. I’m not yet sure which one is
I nourish and am nourished, stained in my moment,
actually me. (If either of them are, if neither of them
and at every moment overflowing.
are). Maybe I was meant to be water forever, an
38
JOYOUS EXCESS
J OYO U S
EXCESS
Wealth has transformative power, especially for those who find themselves otherwise marginalized. This shoot is an exploration of black and brown wealth and the sense of liberation that it often fosters. This is for those who revel in their joyous excess.
DIRECTION & PHOTOGRAPHY
MODELS
Rachel Paulk
Abayomi Awoyomi
Sara del Carmen Camacho
Mikayla Bridges
Kennedy Morganfield
Brianna Chandler
Aneesh Syal
JOYOUS EXCESS
JOYOUS EXCESS
41
42
JOYOUS EXCESS
When Thrown Against a White Background Tyler Burston
This my fifth year out.
At first, everyone acts like going to a PWI is a blessing.
were, and alternatively, who the “financial aid” kids
Everyone talks about how good of an opportunity it
were. The black and brown kids at my school were
is, how you’ll be able to do things other black people
obviously the “diversity hires”. We were the students
aren’t allowed to do, and “network” with all these
from more “dangerous” neighborhoods than our
imagined rich and successful (and white) people. As a
peers, the ones who wouldn’t be there without the
rising 9th grader I bought into the hype, excited to go to
endowment money.
Downtown Manhattan everyday and be in a place with more resources than I ever imagine. More than I could
My transition into my first PWI was disorienting, mainly
ever use.
because it was up to me to figure out exactly what was going on, and then quickly learn how to adjust to
Going to a PWI is a blessing. My white, flagrantly rich
it. I learned that there’s a specific culture surrounding
private high school made me into who I am, gave me
rich NYC private school kids, one that’s as toxic as it
privileges I enjoyed and didn’t deserve. I got my “good”
is opulent. When you fall deep enough into culture,
education, my college preparation, my leg up in the
it’s easy to put a suffocating amount of value on the
game. All of that is expected though, and no one tells
multimillion dollar apartments, expensive clothes,
you about the more destructive aspects. The isolation
expensive drugs, and fake social capital.
that becomes immediately apparent once you learn to make a white space home. My school was incredibly
I knew from the jump that I couldn’t assimilate. I had
small, meaning that the social and economic divisions
entered the game too late and knew too much about
in the school were very apparent. It was easy to see
myself and the world to buy into the materialism
who the kids of investment bankers and affluent artists
and elitism around me. I paid too much attention to
the violence that I caused. I thought too critically of everything. I was too black, too leftist, and too vocal to exist comfortably in the space that I was in. Ironically though, in many ways it was the education and isolation that I received that made me all those things. Being thrown against the white background radicalized me politically, and my classes gave me a historical knowledge that helped to form my convictions. I’m wholeheartedly a product of the system: privileged enough to question my own privilege. That’s why part of me feels weird complaining about PWIs. It’s disingenuous for me to act as if I was somehow fooled into entering this land of milk, honey, and poison. I can’t say that I would go back and change anything. It’s almost second nature for me to explain the harm that PWIs do on a surface level. Of course it leaves black and brown kids isolated. Of course it reinforces classism. Of course we faced discrimination, disrespect, and tokenization. Such is the obvious rite of passage for us students who exist on the periphery.
Illustration by
Less obvious though, was how deep that harm actually
Bersabeh Zenebe
46
WHEN THROWN AGAINST A WHITE BACKGROUND
“I WAS TOO BLACK, TOO LEFTIST, AND manifested itself in me. It’s taken me awhile to realize
accept that I am a disruption. I’m not doing too much
that a lot of the troubles I deal with were a product
by deconstructing this dark, corrupt, complicated,
of my high school experience. My self-image has a
and occasionally beautiful space. I can better identify
lot of healing to do, and I’m learning that my double
when these white spaces hurt me and reconcile that
consciousness may have had a lot of influence on it.
pain with the knowledge that I’m not deserving of it.
I had to understand myself as the zealous liberal, the
I can acknowledge false authority and arbitrary ideas
one playing the race card, the one that was too black to
of power. I can identify toxic ideas and toxic cultures
be comforting but not black enough to be cool. The one
better. I can do a better job of serving myself, keeping
who talked too much. I spent a lot of high school truly
my heart intact enough to take this education, as
thinking that something was wrong with me, and maybe
guarded as it is, and bring it to the world.
in the eyes of some of my classmates, there was. My self-assessment was influenced by the thoughts of
It’s my fifth year out, and I expect more to come. I
those who just didn’t understand, and I occasionally
grow with every struggle I have with this blessing, this
held the rich, white, prestigious lens as my own.
blessing that in many ways shouldn’t be a blessing.
My experience with these lenses has me approaching
One that exists as a product of the system that it
Wash U like a veteran. I’ve had the privilege of
taught me to tear down. I’ve been learning to wrestle
previously wrestling with environments like these,
with contradiction. My existence here inherently
and I’m hopefully wise enough to see past the smoke
contradicts something.
and mirrors. In my fifth year I know that comfort in a space not designed for you is hard to achieve. I don’t even necessarily want it anymore. I am more willing to
WHEN THROWN AGAINST A WHITE BACKGROUND
TOO VOCAL TO EXIST COMFORTABLY IN THE SPACE THAT I WAS IN.”
47
48
SURREALITIES
Surrealities Galen Hicks
Dreamlike scenes created by camera, pen and computer.
SURREALITIES
manipulated photograph
49
50
SURREALITIES
digital drawing
SURREALITIES
51
water color & colored pencil
52
SURREALITIES
acrylic
SURREALITIES
53
manipulated photograph
SCHOOL TO PRISON PIPELINE
School to Prison Pipeline
54
OnYou Kang School-to-prison pipeline is a tendency of disadvantaged students getting funneled out of the public school system into the juvenile justice system. Such tendency, which is largely because of increasingly harsh school disciplinary policies, victimizes primarily Black students and it starts as early as preschool—48 percent of students who have been suspended more than once in preschool are Black. Black students are three times more likely to be suspended compared to the White students, and the list goes on (Hasty, 2017). Based on the statistics, it is hard not to say that the school-to-prison pipeline is independent of the race. The 13th amendment guarantees the freedom to all American citizens, but there was one exception: criminals. This exception is a loophole of the 13th amendment and has been exploited as a tool for keeping Black people from freedom by starting to arrest Black people for small crimes right after the bill was passed. From then until now, White people constantly built the image of Black people as savages and criminals, which established stereotypes and prejudice against Black people (DuVernay, 2016). As drug-related crimes immensely increase in the lase 80s, zero-tolerance policy and ostensibly “color blind” mandatory sentencing policies were introduced in the 90s, which made it possible for people to get a life sentence or the death penalty for drug-related crimes (Nelson, Palonsky, McCarthy, & Noddings, 2017). Over time, it was proven that the zero-tolerance
SCHOOL TO PRISON PIPELINE
55
policy and mandatory sentencing policies exacerbate
of color. Police officers also have a reputation for their
the racial justice system and are ineffective in decreas-
divergent attitude towards people of different races—
ing the crime rate. Yet, the same structure is applied to
how police treat civilians are not independent of race,
the disciplinary policy at almost all school districts.
gender, class, and other socioeconomic factors (Shedd, 2015). When police officers with such bias are bought
Why students of color are more likely to get harsher
into schools, they do not create as safe of an environ-
punishments compared to White students (Nelson et al.
ment as the educators wished them to. Misbehaviors
2017) can be explained with the matrix of domination.
that used to be handled by schools are criminalized that
Students of color are occasionally suspended for “loud”,
schools with police have 5 times more arrests for disor-
“disrespectful”, or “defiant”, which all are very subjec-
derly conduct compared to the schools without police
tive terms. According to Nelson et al. (2017), teachers
(Hasty, 2017; Nelson et al. 2017).
and administrators are as susceptible to stereotypes of people of color as the rest of the population. These
To cut the tendency of the school-to-prison pipeline,
stereotypes can lead educators to view students of
educators need to take a genuine interest in the whole
color as more threatening or dangerous compared
student and should not be too quick to discipline. They
to White students. As the teachers become fearful,
should be mindful of the predictions that they make
and when fear intersects with racial stereotypes, the
and need to have better understandings of different
result is often removal of the student of color from
cultures and backgrounds. Overall, defying the matrix
the class and then suspension. Students who are
of domination by providing equal opportunities for ed-
suspended—whether if it is a in-school suspension or
ucation and creating an environment that supports all
out-of-school suspension does not make a big differ-
the students would prevent incarceration for many stu-
ence according to the lecture on October 31, 2019
dents and put an end to the school-to-prison pipeline.
by Dr. Jason Jabbari—are more likely to walk down the path of academic failure and has higher chance of not graduating high school, which immensely increases the students’ chance of incarceration either as juvenile or later as adults—high school drop-outs has 8 times higher chance of ending up in jail or prison. Educators are not the only ones who are biased against students
13Th. (2016). Retrieved from http://www.netflix.com/watch/80091741?trackId=13752289 How Schools Are Funneling Certain Students Into The Prison System. (2017). Retrieved from https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=O9Wyc85x38o Jabbari and Johnson (2019). The Collateral Damage of In-School Suspensions: A Counterfactual Analysis of High-Suspension Schools, Math Achievement and College Attendance. Unpublished Manuscript. Nelson, J. L., Palonsky, S. B., McCarthy, M. R., & Noddings, N. (2017). Critical issues in education: dialogues and dialectics. Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press. Shedd, C. L.-M. (2015). Unequal city: race, schools, and perceptions of injustice. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
1
CYCLE OF ABUSE AND FORGIVENESS
GOCRAZYAHHHHHHGOSTUPID
FUJI’S EYES
It’s fucking cold. My knuckles are really dry, but they feel good to rub especially along my lips. I wonder when they’ll crack and bleed. Sometimes, when I’m rubbing them on my lips I’ll push really hard so that the pressure builds up in bet between my teeth and the only thing that comes in between is my lip. I also think it’s crazy that teeth are so hard. Supposedly I can bite into myself like a carrot if I wanted to.
2
1
CYCLE OF ABUSE AND FORGIVENESS
Hedonistic stupidity? Indulgent idiocy... I’m just tryna think of examples like that. Like pranks? Or like dumb bits? Like talking in the library when everyone else is quiet? Naw that feels kinda rude. I guess it’s just the shit youtubers do huh? Or like... before them, rockstars. Fuck idk.
The other day I was making FUJI’S EYES 2 great. going pasta, and it was I cooked some onions then garlic and added the pasta, put in some pasta water and butter. I bought the four cheese sauce from Trader Joe’s. I opened that shit and it had mold in it.
I emptied out half of the jar and used the bottom half. I’m not even tryna save money or anything. I really just wanted to risk having stomach pain. So far nothing has come out of it which is the optimal outcome: all of the risk, none of the pain.
CYCLE OF ABUSE AND FORGIVENESS
When I go to pee, I always get this warm pleasureable shiver along my spine. That’s one of my favorite feelings. I feel like each individual red blood cell is receiving a nice hug.
FUJI’S EYES
FUJI’S EYES
By Ahmed Motiwala
I’m starting to slowly creep back to my sad tendencies. I don’t know... it feels good to be sad. I don’t really feel things most of the time, like when I laugh or smile it’s something I do every day so the actual feeling of happiness isn’t there because my threshold of happiness platues, slowly d going down and down until I just smile without feeling anything at all. Being sad recalibrates that threshold of happiness.
CYCLE OF ABUSE AND FORGIVENESS
Every day I wake up and tell myself that I’m stupid. It kinda makes me want to prove myself wrong. It’s counterintuitive, but at least when I have really dumb moments I can say that I was right all along. Then I won’t feel as stupid.
FUJI’S EYES
THOMAS NO
64
FIVE LITTLE LETTERS
five little letters Ahmed Motiwala
the only things that truly belong to me are five little letters that my grandfather bestowed upon me before he passed ahmed [eh-mud] part of speech: noun language of origin: Arabic alternate spellings: ahmad, ahmet translation: “one who constantly thanks God” this was the first gift i received on this earth and the last gift my grandfather gave before the Hereafter but i am sad to say i have never wanted to return a gift more than this one…
Five little letters
Illustration by Andriana Levytsky
66
FIVE LITTLE LETTERS
i grew up in a no man’s land of social identity where there was always a palpable air of exclusion, an atmosphere of cultural isolation where no one had even heard of the land that my heart bleeds for, that my bones ache for where the scions of colonizers washed my acidic name down with honey so that i was easier to digest, quietly consumed the colonial tongues could not wrap themselves around, their throats could not bring themselves to sing the song that is my name i have heard every variation, every nuance in emphasis, changes in “ahs” to “ehs” from the “meds” to the “muds” but it was no use, i was an anomaly so eventually, i stopped correcting them because to be what they wanted was easier than to be what i really was at some instance in time, i sincerely did not care anymore i began introducing myself as the epithet that they had branded into my back burned into my bare skin so that i would never forget who and what i belonged to
FIVE LITTLE LETTERS
67
ahmed did not mean anything to me i was desensitized to the anglicization of my own name they had colonized my mind just as they had my ancestors’ land i was just an intruder on foreign soil and intruders suffer repercussions if this were my punishment, i should have been thankful ahmed is shattered glass a shard of the mirror that reflects who i am spattered and stained with the blood of my people from invasive imperialism and enslavement to the war crimes committed against them i had grinded down the sharp pieces to dust so that they may have been more easily swept into the trash but i have come to realize that ahmed is so much more than just glass ahmed is the soft green peaks and valleys of Murree in the north ahmed is the name of not one, not two, but of three Ottoman sultans ahmed is the thunderous ovation of dhol drums that echo through the frigid night ahmed is the sweet words of iqbal and faiz that inspired the rebels of the Partition ahmed is the cries of millions of tyrannized Kashmiris whose tears burn hot, as hot as the blood pumping through me to mend a broken nation ahmed is the one who constantly thanks God and now i understand why this name belongs to me i thank God for everything he has blessed me with i thank God for giving me thick skin and a soft heart i thank God for a second tongue, a second perspective, and a second home i thank God for the cawing of crows and the humming of rickshaws that lulled me to sleep as a child i thank God for the sweet mangoes that fell from the trees in Nani’s backyard, quenching my thirst when i was parched i thank God for a hand and a pen to write this all down with and i thank God for the greatest gift given to me by someone i love but have never met‌
@colour.mag 314-884-8537 colour@su.wustl.edu
