I am not a South Asian
I won’t be a victim of their myopic definition
Not a subject of their divided and ruled abstraction
Don’t dare call me a lovechild of illegal immigration
Will never give in to their verdicts for societal seclusion
Don’t just divide this world up into several borderlines
And compel me to produce a passport to prove my alliance
I don’t hold torches or flags; I wont fight with no “enemy” beings
And I ain’t no reserved pig, won’t dance to their muddy signs
They’ve been asking long for me to sign the checkbox of my ethnicity
African-American, Asian-American, Latin-American and any other entity
The terms that they block us by, and those divisions subject to atrophy
They devise multiculturalism and play favorites, so we fight for each legacy
The whites of the World are surely united for their common histories
It’s the people of color who are grouped differently by some taxonomies
I wonder why there are no enlisted Europeans-American categories
Even as the Native Indians are made to suffer from some identity crisis
The Third world and our diasporic folks in First World have some in common
We have always fought the rulers bravely, to repel the ghastly intrusions
We’re the strongest force to reckon with, as the victims of oppressions
Divide us, calm us, comedy us, and we are soon our own frustrations
I know they secretly love to call us Niggers, call us Zappies, call us Chinkies
But they wont call me Asian yet, for where will go the yellow lot Chinese?
Now they call me South Asian and I wonder what need is for that tease
But of course we are items stratified on their flawed geographical drawings
They can call me at will, a different race and a different ethnicity
But can hardly ever separate me from my shared similar history
With the peoples who suffered being part of one same colony
Ruled and ravaged as uncivilized colored, yet laundered as valued money
Spanish, French, Dutch, Germans, English and the Americans
Their ruling elites believing in imperialistic expansions
To sustain the rule, have broken people into rival sections
And now preachers of the G-7 and the self-proclaimed well-wishers
Nay, peoples of the world reject the rules of the ruling classes
No more nationalistic agendas, no racial superiority clashes
Won’t take that bullet from them anymore, nor shall we shoot their gun
Working peoples of the world this time, will fight for their own revolution
– Saswat Pattanayak, Peoples’ Poet
