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
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
Latest posts by Pary Shuaib (see all)
- An Open Letter to the Afghan Girls Robotics Team - July 19, 2017
- The Second Generation Struggles of an Afghan-American - July 10, 2017
- Meet Arzo Wardak, An Advocate for Refugee Rights - June 22, 2017