JJL

When you look at my face, what do you see?

When you hear my voice, what do you hear?

今は？

और अब?

नहीं। मैं जापानी नहीं हुँ। मेरा मूँ देखो।

But just as my accent can’t match my face,

My face tells so little.

When you ask me where I’m from—

                I hate that question,

                I really do—

“Minnesota” can’t tell the whole story.

      (And you’ll want to know why I don’t have that accent)

Then I say:

     Minnesota

          via

               India

                   via

                       LA

                            with

                                  Some Japan in the middle

And you’ll give me that wide-eyed stare

      (It’s the same stare when I said, “I study math and East Asian studies.”)

You admit,                                                          distantly

                                                                                     “You must lead an interesting life.”

      (“That’s an interesting combination.”)

      (“So I’m told.”)

So I’m told.

But I rush at that old curse:

                “May your life be interesting.”

and embrace it with both arms.

Now, how can I not?

But even that long trail

      that dotted line on a map

          it cannot tell you how

               each footstep

                    each stair climbed

                         each stumble on a moonless Himalayan night

                              made me into something new.

Did you know it’s easier to say リンディキ  or   लिन्डकी

                 Than it is to actually say my name?

                 I can count on an Indian or a 日本人 to say it right on the first try.

   I like the way it sounds when you call me जेन्ना।

   It’s not a name change

   It’s the same

   Just in a different context

                                                                                                 (Am I the same me?)

                                                                                        (Just in a different context?)

     Will you judge me by my habits

     when I act outside of my race?

                         outside of my ethnicity?

                         I want to tell you

                         But I don’t want to admit

朝ご飯はご飯かपुराण्ताが好き。

実は、यह कमीज़ एक कुर्ता है।

布団पर寝る。

                                Not a “futon”, a「ふとん」。

                                There’s a difference.

                                No, I’m not trying to sound pretentious,

                                I just say it that way to differentiate between—

                                                                                                                  never mind.

बहुत लोग फ़र्श पर सोनते हैं।

अजिब नहीं है।

変じゃないよ。

right?

Identity.

What do I project to you?

What do you project on me?

How do I express what I don’t know how to say in words?

            言葉いっぱい知っているのに。みとめられたいなぁ。

       मैं सोचती थी कि जब मेरा देश वापस जाऊँ,

       मैं सब कुछ बता सकूँ।

If only.

    It’s only gotten harder.

When, like an infant, I find the insufficiency of my monosyllabic mumbling come to a breaking point,

                    I will sing a wordless melody

                    For a moment

                    I will understand

                    lost in the music

When I meet you,

                     friend,

That person who understands                   (without words)

I will cling to you

                        your community

and never let go

       never let go

Until the currents of life

                 the tides

                 the spinning of this earth from day into night

　　　　流れている天の川

throws me to the wind

                    to my new ‘home’

And I will say

     “I’m from Minnesota via Oberlin via India va LA via DC via Japan.”

You stare.

That’s not the answer you wanted.

आप का गाँव कहाँ है?

I wish I knew.

I wish I knew…