By: Arthiga Arumansan

We go to school to learn right?

To become the big firemen we told our mothers

and the doctors that cared for the others

To learn about the world and what the amazing things it held

To grow our minds to think out side the box and the lines

To show that we are capable of excellence and beyond

And not what people said

to put us down

But why is it so hard now..?

Why is it so hard to get up these days

To detach from the lazy bed we laid

To do your homework and not get distracted

From social media that fed our curious minds about other peoples lives

That had nothing to do with mine

We started to call school stupid when other kids would die to sit in a desk and study about the old times

Because it didn’t become about learning anymore

it became about the marks

The big tests that we all look forward to get back

The exams we stayed up studying

Tryna memorize words one day before that wouldn’t be remembered

The notes we saw when you look up to the ceiling tryna think of the answers we got taught in december

Thats what started to matter..

We started to live for marks that showed up on thin sheets

that meant everything to parents

That grew their children to meet

To meet their expectations

That they thought their child didn’t receive

So they pressured their child to achieve.

This pressure never helped..

I wanna go back to the time when everything i learned amazed me

Not tired me

To the time when bedtime was at 8

But didnt sleep till ten

because I was too content

To when everything I learned only made me smarter

Not to learn how to memorize it in an hour

To when we were independent and didnt rely on people to bring in their papers

To when everything the teacher said became inspiring and something i felt proud to remember

But now

When we grew older..

Our bright goal to become a doctor has just became a thought to look back and remember.

Arthiga Arumansan

Against the anglicization and exotification

Of a body and a struggle

You don’t even have the syllables to comprehend.

My name is a form of resistance

Because my mother named me for my Homeland.

She named me to belong no matter where my feet would find me.

My name is a form of resistance

Because I was blessed in birth

To embody an oral history kissed to my forehead like a prayer

Joining Air and Earth to Flesh and Blood.

My name is a form of resistance

Because it means hope and aspiration in Sanskrit

across the Crimson scars you have left

on the faces of those who have tried to Rise.

My name is a form of resistance so

just because you cannot pronounce it

Does not give you the right to dismiss it or erase it

And then make me feel like suddenly it doesn’t fit.

Because I respond to my name,

Battle cries, I take charge in my name.

I am blessed unlike those who don’t need a face and story

To ground them to a history they see everywhere

I am visible in my name

So no, I don’t have a nickname.

For I will not shorten or adjust even a bit of myself

To fit the capacity you have to stomach Me.

And my nine letters can spell

more defiance, more passion, more fire

than you will ever be able to extinguish.

My name is a form of resistance

because I was named for a purpose.

And like all things that have a purpose,

I will not rest until mine on this earth is fulfilled.

So I will tell my stories,

I will them for they need to be heard,

And I invite pride to come into the hearts

Of those who wait submerged

For my name is a form of resistance.

And in it, I am empowered,

Loud, and clear.

Aakanksha John

Aakanksha John