Nonbinary lesbian
my body is not a question mark, but
if it was, I would be the only one
who could benefit from the answer.
I am not a confession, waiting to be heard, I promise
there is nothing that needs to be pressed out of me.
my name is my name is not an apology & should I ever pause,
the world will not stop turning because I was not born to convince
others of my being. life is better lived than spent wondering if I am enough
in the eyes of other people. I am sure
as a seed into a tree, swaying but standing tall I am growing
in the right direction.
Mother’s Tongue
my tongue is dipped, not dull;
quivering, but strong enough
to take anyone on. it is not “weak”
in any language. I am not “weak”
in any language. these dialects are gifts
from my grandmothers: my tongue
can be a shield and it can be a blade / I only wait
for the right time to strike
first-wave women of color
not everything that leaves my grandmother’s lips is
golden, so we fight / sometimes / lovingly:
she is a feminist in every sense but the term. we start,
stirred by something in the news and she says “abortion
is murder” to the tune of an adopted doctrine / I argue,
reading articles until she comes clean / she beats around the bush
her pastor planted until we stumble unto “my body is my own” in
her own terms. I live to pick it out of her. to hear the dissent &
radical sentiments she’s carried over the century / I wonder how many battles you’ve fought
under your breath. you are a soldier with hardly any protection & every discourse I push into
your direction fascinates me. our grandmothers are doctorates without degrees—leaders &
luminaries well before “feminism” found its way into our dialects; colored women are living
shards of history.
Nashira is an Afro-Pinay/Polynesian artist & activist from Cebu. She uses art as a weapon to champion for the rise & recognition of women of color. On Tumblr as @nashira and Instagram & Twitter as @nashxra
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