Help Me Get Ready: Monologue
You’re face, my face, our face
Its all the same now
Black, white, brown,
Yellow, red, tan
My foundation, caked into my skin
Removing texture, color
My contour, blended into a new structure
Removing nature, shape
You’re basically white
They used to say
You’re basically white
They used to say
Blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending and blending
Until there is no more history
I rid myself of my brownness
And yes, you demand cultural authenticity
To share with you my knowledge, my heritage
So you can take it from me?
Appropriate it?
Bastardize it and disregard its meanings and intensions?
You will
But not without erasing it first
Without covering it up
Page Guide
Page 2: Self-Portrait
Page 3: Hyphen
Page 4: “What do you remember about the Earth?”
Page 5: A Language That Opened My Mouth
Page 6: Help Me Get Ready: Monologue
Page 7: A Color I Can’t Escape
Reva Kashikar 