self-identity
Writing
a story in the perspective of the love interest
By Julie PhamA STORY IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE LOVE INTEREST
the director says start, and you come to life like an automaton. a blink, and
Where I’m From
By Emme MackenzieI am from
the expressions of my people
flattened nose and slits for eyes
leathery skin and cricks in my back
each feature of mine
a reflection of my family heritage
The Parasite Lives and Grows
By Rachel FranklinOnce upon a time Goliath fell.
They built buildings on his body
and David walked away without looking back
didn’t know his victory
until he moved
opened the door
to have his pebble drop at his feet
Ode to the Oddball
By Eric GunnarsonThere’s a simple liberating joy
In being different,
Being obtuse,
Having that little bit of self outside of normality,
Askew
People will either embrace it,
Or reject it.
Some will revel and thrive in their unlikeness,
Darkness Inside
By Lauren McGrathThis darkness inside my heart
Residing in my pitiless mind
A fuel to a fire of ever-burning odium
That cutting sarcasm of such cruelty
The cold cynical aura that never abates
What is it that filled me with such hate?
Gymnastics vs School
By Audrey ManivongI’m from chalky hair,
Here, pretty hair and curls,
I’m from leotards and spandex,
Here, pretty tops and jean shorts,
Where I’m from, new skills
Here, 9 x 24
I’m from, rug burns and big bruises,
Here, paper cuts
Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs
By Eunice Leei am your (empty
dead-eyed cashier, mechanically
ringing up your nachos and popcorn;
have a great day!
weekend plans and giggling friends,
i am Maslow’s slave
face blur past, i ring up your purchase
Woman
By Sarah WoodsWoman.
Care-taker, life-giver,
nurturer, chef, doormat.
Woman.
Raised to believe my gender put
me on the bottom.
I am to please, not to be pleased.
I am the inferior, the weak, the
soft, the submissive.
The Plight of T he G2
By Aroog Khaliqsing in me, O Muse, the plight of the second generation american;
she is a girl with brown eyes and skin and hair,
with $300 Beats that match her silk headscarf affair.
she brings “exotic” food to school,
and cringes when lentils get on her skirt of tulle.
Everyone Thinks I'm Super Happy
By Ali RobinsonEveryone thinks I am super happy
But I’m not...
Everyone thinks I just don’t have any problems
But I do...
Everyone thinks I am just happy with myself
But I’m not...
Everyone thinks that I can just make everything in my life okay
Dream Behind the Glass
By Anika RasheedThere’s a girl that I see sometimes.
She pops up from time to time.
Day to day.
She’s a lot of things.
God, she’s beautiful.
And, isn’t she just so funny?
My Diaspora Poem (Remix), or All I Know is This
By Aroog KhaliqI hate diaspora poetry
as much as the next
fed-up immigrant
All that bullshit
about “lives stained
with honey and turmeric”
and “the colonizer
cutting my tongue with
aluminum shears”
is utterly boring
Towelhead
By Aroog KhaliqThe night before my first day of sixth grade, I studied the piece of fabric laid out on my bed with uncharacteristic placidity. It was no work of art; plain cotton fabric, dyed black, with a single strip of black lace for adornment.
Flowers Exist on the Moon
By Maggie GolshaniFidgeting my leg against a familiar school desk, the dreadful anticipation always washes over me while listening to roll call on the first day of school.
By Any Other Name
By Breeaunna DowdyNames. Titles given to us at birth by someone with no idea of who we are or what we'll become, they are iron-clad chains bound to our lifetimes by those who want us to be something great.
At the End of the Wire...
By Mahnoor CheemaThere are occasions where I zone out, and during this period of deep thought, I find myself staring at a girl. I’ve seen this girl multiple times before.
Half A Person
By Lauren Yokshlace up your sneakers and roll up your jeans: your jeans
are blue and worn in the knees because they’re your favorite
and the laces on your sneakers used to be white but now
they are tinted brown from the dirt of the earth you walk through.
Tied
By Saadia SiddiquaPakistan and America
Eastern and western
but they feel like the north and south poles
I’m immersed in the red silk dresses embroidered by hand and I’m in love with the ability to roam alone across this land
Four Words to Describe Yourself?
By Ana SchulteUnsure.
About the question, or the world?
Unsure whether to answer truthfully, or to fabricate a more intriguing narrative.
Unsure what the question implies: Fears,
(Spiders, bad grades, falling out of love)
Bounty Brand Paper Towels
By Abbey RoschakBounty brand paper towels; you know it by name
“The quick picker upper”, thirst pockets
Outnumbering the leading brands not only in price
But in absorbency
Who would have thought that a simple household object
What am I?
By Clara RabbaniIn Iran I am a rebel. I show my hair. In Brazil I am exotic. The nomads left me their yellow eyes to search the desert sand. Where I live, there is no sand. In America I am my age. Stuck in the in-between where nothing lasts. I am the enemy.
Identities Confied
By Emily MartinThe cheerleader who always holds a book
And the agnostic with an avid church attendance
Someone so silent and simultaneously outspoken
And the fiery spirit which silence most benefits
Her identity, though contradictory, belongs to her
It Isn't Me
By Matthew JustisI wake up
Brush my teeth
Then look into the mirror.
I see a kid
Who looks confused
About his true self.
I don’t know who.
But it isn’t me.
You, Myself, and I
By Alexander KraussI self-reflect
And I gaze deep
To try to forget the secrets that I keep
I bind myself
And hide my chest
All day long until I rest
I stay at home
And lay in bed
Trying to drown out what you said
What's in a Name?
By Vic KepnerMadeline.
The first name I was ever given
A symbol of my mother’s overbearing need to go her way or no way
Her way had no meaning
It was simply a name she thought was pretty