June 13, 2017 Pary Shuaib 0Comment

American – as my passport states
Afghan – as my parents reiterate

Growing up, in-between
In a state of red, and black, green
With white skin, but feeling blue

What White?
The narrow American description?
Or my Panjsheri porcelain representation?
Which White do I check in the application?
Wait – aren’t I technically Asian?
But not Caucasian. Further complications.

In younger years, the deep Atlantic Ocean
Tried to swallow my soul whole,
As I struggled whether to swim towards
The right or left, in search of a security net.

Eventually, I floated on until an island took me in.
There, I embraced both cultures and nationalities.
Creating an identity where I could represent a blend,
Finally, free to be as I please.

Written by: Pary Shuaib

Pary Shuaib

Pary Shuaib

Pary Shuaib is a Free Women Writers member with a relentless passion for gender equality. She has a BA in Communication from George Mason University and sometimes does yoga to soothe her soul.
Pary Shuaib