Uncultured vs Cultured

By Lavanya Jalan

They say,"It’s just our culture, beta."Like that sentence is a seatbeltlocking me into a ride I never signed up for.Like the way Dadi did itautomatically makes it right.

Likewe don’t talk about periods, right? but we’ll shame a girlfor bleeding through her uniform.We tell her to hide her padslike she’s carrying contraband.Don’t go to the temple.Don’t touch the food.Don’t sit on the couch.You’re unclean.

We say,“Family comes first.”But that only countsif you're straight,obedient,marriage-material by 25.Otherwise you’re the family shame,the black sheep,the "phase" they pray away.

We act like being gayis a Western diseaseAs if queerness didn’t existuntil Netflix showed up.

But let me remind youVishnukept his hair long,took the form of Mohini,wore bangles,and dancedon the battlefield of gods.

But now?A boy twirls in his living roomand you say,"Sharam nahin aati?"Shame?For dancing?

Please.

We throw a weddingwith gold heavy enoughto snap a spine,but won’t pay for therapybecause “we don’t need that white people stuff.”

And when someone says,“I don’t want to live like this,”we say,"Don’t be ungrateful.""Look at what we sacrificed."

as if pain should be inheritedlike land or debt.

We say,"This is how it’s always been."And maybe that’s the problem.

Because alwaysdoesn’t mean right.And olddoesn’t mean wise.

We are not hereto be carbon copiesof your expectations.

and I will not shrinkto fit inside the storyyou wrote without asking me.

I’ll take the food.The music.The fire in our dances.

But I’m donewith worshippingwhat’s been hurting us for generations.

Your traditionendswheremytruthbegins.

And I’m not sorryfor choosing freedomover fear.

By Lavanya Jalan