Expressions

What Are You?: a poem

September 15, 2015

By RUAA LABANIEH & BETHANY HUANG
Section Editors
Bethany Huang: I’m a Twinkie,
yellow on the outside giving way to
white on the inside.
Not for my culture’s taste
and not for this country’s either.
Constantly shoved off shelves when I try to explain my place.
Who are you?

Ruaa Labanieh: I’m a gift,
wrapped in long sleeves and jeans
a bow on my head for every day of the week.
Not for my culture’s sake
and not for this country’s either.
Constantly shaken to figure out the insides
when they can’t guess from the outside
What are you?

Bethany Huang: I’m bubble tea,
drowning in a sea of people
trying to make a quick buck off one cup,
an abrupt change from the crickets when I asked, “Want some?”
I know how long it takes
to sit and wait to make a batch
that will match the ingredients in polyjuice potion.
Wishing I wouldn’t have to bubble in the option of inclusion
on that test where I want to ask
why does my race even matter?
Drink down that glass
as if Cho Chang had helped Harry Potter
Who are you?

Ruaa Labanieh: I’m turkish coffee
my future supposedly told in the grinds
struggling to pave a way for myself with a blunt shovel,
not a simple task when icy criticisms scream “Want more?”
I don’t know how long it takes
till I’m buried and immersed under mounds of judgements
that I will inhale and get high off of the little appraisals.
Wishing I wouldn’t crash down to reality
on that test where I want to ask
why does my race even matter?
Tilting my head up to catch snowflakes,
as if critique was as constructive as building a snow plow.
What are you?

Bethany Huang: I’m a moon cake and a sun cake,
not one or the other but of the sunrise and sunset,
the time of lovers like Romeo and Juliet
who I know as my parents.
I’m considered a mix or full
depending on with whom I speak to
Sometimes not pronouncing the blend at all
and just saying I’m Chinese.
My mother’s side of the family would be appeased
if I said I was Chinese -Taiwanese
but only being one is hard enough
for someone who can’t hold her own in a debate
about whether or not you can even be Taiwanese.
So if this would invalidate what I am
I jam my lips together and shut up
long enough for the moon to pass and black out my other face.
Who are you?

Ruaa Labanieh: I’m a weapon of mass destruction and a ticking bomb,
not one or the other but a bit of ignorance and fear,
the time of hopefuls like suffragettes and abolitionists
who I know as my friends
I’m considered to pass dangerous wires
instead of salt at the dinner table
Cooking up schemes to destroy the place
that built my second half.
If I said I was an extremist,
forgive me if I scare you, but I’m only extremely peaceful
and just saying I’m Muslim,
again, forgive me if I scare you, but I’m only a peacemaker.
So if this would invalidate who I am
I jam my lips together and shut up
long enough for CNN to air live and blackout my truth seeing eye.
Who are you?

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