i am, according to many, an anomaly to contend with. this society is more prone to condemn based on appearances. a woman i happen to be, a “she”, (a clearly lesser “he”). yet i don’t walk with my head down and i make no apology for my breasts, my tis, my ass, or my punani. i can’t submit to the ever so long and tedious list of what i should be. hear my apology, it’s not because i think myself above…or below, i simply see the should be of equality.
yes, i wear my hair so short (oh how could she?!) but it does nothing to take away from my femininity. damn your notions of my beauty. and so my nose isn’t pierced where patriarchal tyranny says it need be. i will not let my face or accessories trap me into caste or creed. i am, female, yes. i am, nepali. but surely, this being carried around this body is more than a concept of gender, more than a specific shade of passport green.
but you ask me to ponder over “who am i”, and the truth is, i was lost in the vagueness of that proposition. but that is only until i realized…it was not a question, i know myself in certainties. i know myself as I AM oh. so. many. things.
i am trail and error. i am ever learning. i am presence. i am compassion and empathy. i am faith and good will. i am flawed and so faulted—it can’t be helped, but i am hoping to wise up, to avoid the redundancy of mistakes. the redundancy of heartache. of pain. of the wrong kind of grief. perhaps, more than destination, i am journey.
i am boxed by the clothes i wear, by the lilt on my tongue, but so many little nuances that betray one concrete nationality. but that isn’t to say i am not without an identity. i am travel and movement and time and change. i am thought. i am, brief, temporary. i am struggle and conflict, love and apathy, paradox and conundrum living in harmony. i am the complexity of every being. i am with purpose even if there is no beginning and i am without meaning until whatever the end.
i am you. i am me. i am.
i am a dream.