#southasiandiaspora
By Thahitun Mariam
We come from the unsheltered cruelty of
broken homes,
broken bonds,
the apathetic, unapologetic,
rawness of shards and solitude,
all mixed into a device of its own being.
We come from the homes where
mothers and fathers never speak to one another,
never to taste
loving words rolling from their lips,
where fathers ask children to not come to his funeral
as he pummels them into the ground
with each venomous insult that grows
seeds in their minds
we come from homes where
mothers are left to take care of the entire family,
when the father returns to their homeland
to remarry a girl thrice younger than
his own age,
where teenage years and our early 20s,
are wasted working 12-hour shifts,
where we accept lovers
who are unavailable and unemotional
because that is all we have seen,
where we witness some of the people
we have shared our childhood with
take refuge in religion
as though it could ever be an answer,
where brokenness is not defined or spoken about
because for so long,
so long,
we thought the way we live
is the way everyone lives
Was there ever any better to be had?
It was not until
the paradigm shifted,
in a new environment,
did we discover the way we were raised,
loveless and cold,
was never the real answer to how
living,
breathing,
functional,
human beings
are brought up in this world.
When we faced confusion
in making the smallest of decisions,
when we began to take on actions
without any contemplation,
when we became machines
who operate in swift movements,
when we could not turn to anyone
to discuss what the next move should be
in terms of our education,
or career,
or realizing one’s potential,
did we recognize
the ones who strive
and do make it,
are able to do so
because they stand
on the shoulders of many
who navigated them to
those waterways.
We see we have been deceived.
We were not raised the same.
The neighborhoods we grew up in
are concrete,
and filled with trash bins,
broken pavements,
and a lurking danger
as the socio-economic class struggle
of the lower-income folks,
living in destitute and dirt,
is as much internalized
as it is an externalized issue.
We take one of two routes—
we either cower in fear
of the inevitable problem that may arise,
from our protest,
or we walk boastfully
as though we can take on any hurdles
that may come on by.
The stoic nature we must carry
with us on the streets
resonates with the stoniness
of our personalities
that we must take on
while inside our homes.
Years go by, but
We don’t just forget
that one time
we had to find
our mother hiding in the closet
of a neighbor’s house as she was
bawling her eyes out
due to the acidic way
he screamed and
threatened to kill her,
or sell her to the streets
words ‘naughty’er baccha’ ‘khankir maagi’
prostitute, and other ruthless possibilities;
and then there are other times
when we were
to be on standby,
as he continued to kick her,
again and again,
on her injured leg,
and although,
she too is
a human,
she is expected to operate,
as a well-oiled machine,
as a puppet,
answering to his demands,
and how can we erase
the way we have to relive
the vivid accounts of friends,
who had been molested,
time and time again,
by these same men,
uncles,
neighbors,
cousins,
fathers.
Where will these memories go?
We cannot undo
the coils of clutter
that causes us
to hurl
within our insides.
We keep seeking escapes
in many ways
to leave these selves we have become—behind.
these unsealed memories,
we did not choose,
this childhood that remains tainted,
relations that offer the very minimum,
and yet we clench onto them;
the avoidance that comes from
realizing there was never any room for love.
Tell me,
Where will these memories go?
~~~~~
Thahitun Mariam is a Bangladeshi-American writer and activist from New York City. She has been wistfully writing poetry and prose since her teenage years. Through her words, she explores deeper questions of self, identity, places, relationships, and belonging. She divides her time between New York, Dhaka, and the Middle East. She studied International Relations at St. Lawrence University. Thahitun publishes her work atthahitunmariam.wordpress.com.
