The master of acclimation

Does fear run though me from my ancestors who could not acclimate when pitted against their brothers?

Or is it in my own DNA — scarred from my grandmother who fled from Pakistan to Punjab— watching her own kind splitting in two?

Is my physical body silent from hunger of my four million Bengali brothers — with voices beneath me still screaming in agony for rice?

Can I not speak because my mother tongue was stolen leaving me with these words I bring forth devoid of meaning?

Was it when I saw my men shot for looking like terrorists that I decided to blend in?

Or was it when these men silenced us, with rape after rape passed down though generations?

Maybe I decided I had to step up my acclimation game when Britney told me I was too quiet to work at yoga studio?

Or maybe it was from advice from my Indian manager telling me that brown women are under a microscope?

Is this why I sought the guidance from those appropriating my own culture?

Was I trying to fit in as I turned a blind eye to yoga teachers cringing at the philosophy my ancestors sacrificed to bring?

Will my spirit be forever silent chasing spiritual knowledge that was was burned?

No. My sisters will no longer blend — we will speak up for those that couldn’t.

https://www.telesurenglish.net/news/5-Ways-the-British-Empire-Ruthlessly-Exploited-India-20170425-0033.html