"Any asshole can chase a skirt, art takes discipline." BLOG 2: favorite writing

Don’t wanna be your exotic
like some dark fragile colorful bird
imprisoned, caged
in a land foreign to the stretch of her wings.
Don’t wanna be your exotic
women everywhere look just like me
some taller, darker, nicer than me
but like me, just the same.
Women everywhere carry my nose on their faces
my name on their spirits
Don’t seduce yourself with
my 'otherness'
my hair wasn’t put on top of my head to entice
you into some mysterious black voodoo
the beat of my lashes against each other
ain’t some dark desert beat
it’s just a blink
get over it
Don't build around me your fetish, fantasy,
your lustful profanity to cage me in,
clip my wings
Don’t wanna be your exotic
Your lovin' of my beauty ain’t more than
funky fornication, plain pink perversion
in fact
nasty necrophilia
Cause my beauty is dead to you
I am dead to you
Not your
harem girl, geisha doll, banana picker
pom pom girl, pum pum shorts coffee maker
town whore, belly dancer, private dancer
la malinche, venus hottentot, laundry girl
your immaculate vessel
emasculating princess
Don’t wanna be
not your erotic
not your exotic






This writing by Def Jam poet, Suheir Hammad has always been a favorite of mine. Suheir in general, is such a compelling poet and the way she delivers her spoken word poems puts even more oomph in her writing. She is a Palestinian-American woman who was born in Amman, Jordan to refugee parents, who later immigrated with her family to Brooklyn, New York when she was five. I guess you could call Ms. Hammad a feminist and an activist of sorts, but what I really like about her writing is the raw emotion and bite you feel when you hear/read it. I was particularly drawn to this piece, "Not your erotic, not your exotic," because of her insight on the tricky and at times problematic "othering" and exotification of Muslim women and other women of color. I, myself, coming from a middle eastern background, found it an fascinating piece that I can personally identify with. My father is persian, and my mother is spanish, french and native american. My whole life I have encountered bewilderment and curiosity when it comes to the subject of my race and origins. If I had a nickel for every time someone has asked me "WHAT ARE YOU??" I would be very very well off. Whether the product of my explanation be awe and interest, or general confusion, I have always held some issue with peoples inherent fascination and sometime annoying need to know my nationality. Is it pure curiosity or something more? Why do some people feel the need to categorize a person? This spoken word poem was refreshing for me and always evokes some emotion every time I hear it.