Life After The ‘P’ Word

"P***!" The word slammed into me with the force of a freight train, Matthew's hot breath searing my face as he spat the slur.

Finding Acceptance

Growing up in an Indian family really shapes your identity and who you’re supposed to be. The identity of mother is everywhere and is truly revered.

Eight hours over coffee?! How is that possible, you say?

I wrote this poem when I was 17 years old - 34 years ago in 1990:

I Don’t Belong Here

Lohri is a traditional event involving the wish for fertile lands, good harvest, birth of sons and fertility of young wedded couples.

Mum: I loved you with all my heart and you hated me.

Me: I didn’t know how to love you, you made me feel worthless.

Have you ever been forbidden to enter your family house where you grew up?

“Why does your brother have an English name?” Hmmm, because my parents named him that? Wondering what this has to do with the adoption process.

There is a cultural element to my experience of childlessness that is hard to explain.

‘A childless person of colour’ - now here’s a label I haven’t consciously appreciated, or at least I don’t think I have.

Ever since I can remember, the question of where I’m from or where I belong has been somewhat of a quandary for me.

Hurtful comments I have received..

I’ve always been alone – involuntarily. I’ve been blind in one eye from birth and that has tended to be distracting to people.