brown girl sweat runs in my blood
amla stained bathroom sinks, floor-length acrylics, and Sunday morning pooja 
this civil liberty was never hereditary
my proclamation of womanhood was stolen before I could speak
my hair oiled, and my skin bleached (I untaught myself)
they tried to snatch me, pull me by my piggy tails
but this muddy hand bitch was too slick
so now before they take my akka I am yelling for her before me 
her red sari is too quick for me 
jaggery! thick sweet jaggery drips from her teeth
amou, amor I have a confession to make
I still suck my thumb when ama braids generations of strength into my scalp
I still whimper and whisper when the glass cracks a little too close to my feet
I still scream when I close my eyes and the guillotine of girlhood snaps
I’m still thinking about the summer 
thieving and scheming under the sun
my gods are pleased with my dishonesty 
my Durban aunty is always yelling at my loose hands
‘DONT TURN YOU BACK ON THE STOVE’
lessons of mixed masalas ingrained in the backs of my burns 
garlic and onion first, grind, no thyme, mix don’t stir, 
my heart has lived in too many cities  
so, I hope this village shit will lead me on
my objectification will end in my glory