Fatima Habib

Shades of Red

I wonder which shade of red I am –

to which flag I belong to.

If I’m better paired with vibrant green, 

or meant for white and blue.

I am not fit to stay in both parties 

but you will see me still, 

make my place, feet planted firm 

with my American will. 

But my mind speaks in translation

and there’s no buffer in between

tradition, religion—my privileged position

and in both instances i have seen;

That I can be too dark 

for Bangladeshi standards, 

And my kind of American? 

Well I won’t always matter.

I have no place in either of these two worlds, 

I read Arabic and speak Bangla

But I'm a –

I’m a “promiscuous” girl 

To my mother. 

Will she ever come to terms

with the daughter that she raised? 

In these past coming years I’ve learned how to

swallow my pride from her lack of praise.

All I have as proof of her kin

Is the language we speak 

The color of our skin 

I‘m not to tell her stories of the things that I’ve done 

or with whom I have been.

Because the girl that I am simply does not exist 

In the world my own mother lives in.