From the girls who would snicker behind my back
To the boys who would cover their noses
There was always a reason to lose my focus
From the me who would always cower behind their gazes
Even a teacher who said straight up to my face
"I can smell you from miles away"
She didn't even hesitate
To the me who thought to have an ally
Even adults can drown in their torturous cries
"You smell like curry"
"You should bathe"
"Go back to your country"
"I would rather take a fish out on a date"
Small words that held the world
A price to pay for thinking I belonged
In the sea of blue that I thought to be my song
My red seeped through my perfect stature
Methods of locking my culture in were lackluster
I don't want to be called "Curry Girl"
Who cried when a teacher said she smelled
As there is nothing worse than being an outcast
But it was a small price to pay when your family is known to fast
The poem I wrote called "You Smell Like Curry" highlights my experience as a South Asian attending a school where I was known to be the only Bengali person. People often commented on the way I smelled because my mother cooked traditional dishes such as curry to feed my family and the smell of those dishes seeped on to my clothes. In the poem, I use crafts such as dialogue, imagery, symbolism, repetition, and end-stopped lines to elevate how people of my culture get comments like this all the time, but the hurtful discrimination is not acknowledged.
Hello, my name is Subita Sania. I am a South Asian tenth grader who goes my the pronouns or she/her and I love to read and write. Although, I do not believe myself to be quite talented in these areas, I think they are great ways to express myself and my identity especially as a Bengali young women living in a neighborhood with mostly white people. My identity is often marginalized, disregarded or put in a box and because of this, I feel eager to express my identity through these pieces and feel encouraged by the Dear Asian Youth committee to do so as well.
Cover Photo Source: Buzzfeed.com