Colorful Hatred

My first experience with racism and what has happened and how it is has affected me since.

I remember the day I was first blinded by absolute hatred,

Ravaged by the Pestilence of Discrimination,

Encountering the beginning of a life of actions,

Actions to avoid becoming black, brown, blue, and red.

It started a tyke, no older than five years old,

Living in the adolescence, thinking I was so bold,

Dealing with the aftermath of 911 like buckshot in my heart,

The feeling of horror and sadness for those who had to depart.

And then, on the playground in recess, I was destroyed,

By another little one, who I must’ve annoyed,

Annoyed because I looked like ones who caused harm,

Ones who tend the Fields of Terror, those who own that farm.

My skin and soul took their toll upon this frightening encounter,

When this kid threw sand into my eyes and blinded me in hate,

All because to him I looked and was so much browner,

So much that I must have been related to those bombers!

I was blinded for days, dealing with intense pain,

Not sure what I did to get to deserve such blame,

Nor did I understand what he called me as he acted,

And unsure until now as to how I reacted.

He called me a “towelhead”, “terrorist”, maybe even “sand-n****r”.

He felt he had the right, because as a person, he seemed bigger.

I did not know then about racism or what it could do,

That it may involve such hatred and shoes,

But then I began a lifetime of pain because I’m dark,

And I realized that discrimination is my reality that’s so stark.

And so it continued onwards, “Abhishek the Indian Terrorist”,

Doomed to hear the jokes, make the jokes at my own expense,

So that I may one day escape this hatred at my own insistence,

So that I may survive this hatred and not get shot… a feeling so intense.

I love this country and I love this world, but see what has unfurled,

I am branded as a terrorist because of my skin color,

Because of my skin, I must be anti-American, a traitor and a “goat-f****r”,

All because I’m dark, and that is the real sucker.

I’m a Hindu Indian born and raised by a family who is anti-communist and anti-terrorist,

But still people are pissed, that we could be terrorists, than in a crowd we’d be amiss.

I remember the day I was first blinded by absolute hatred,

Ravaged by the Pestilence of Discrimination,

Encountering the beginning of a life of actions,

Actions to avoid becoming black, brown, blue, and red.