Hair, a draft.

Before I started kindergarten,
My family could not afford head lice treatment,
So my mother cut off all my hair
Over and over, I heard them tell her, what a beautiful boy you have
Over and over, my mother correct them, this is my daughter.

I can hear their insides questioning her,
Why would she let her daughter come to school looking like that?
Fresh hand me downs from my brother 
Navy blue, cuffed overalls, black swap meet Nikes with torn aglets 
Shoe laces tucked in, not tied. 
My mother made sure I had gold bangles on my chopstick sized wrists, so they can call me her daughter. 
But still, they couldn't distinguish, Hatefas was not a gender crafted name.
Hatefas, the marriage and birth of histories, 
Hati, Indonesian tongue meaning heart
Hati, Hindu tongue meaning elephant
The heart of an elephant, my mother always wanted my 6 months premature heart to grow into. 

But I was neither Hindu or Indonesian. 
A southeast Asian Muslim minority, a product of survival, migration, a spark of hope.
My father crafted my name to reflect his paternal history, of men dreaming to study Quranic recitation in Java, Indonesia 
But never did I see my name in Quranic recitations 
Not once. 

The struggle to seek acceptance from native and American culture. 
Wanting to be called Jamilah, beautiful in Arabic
Wanting to rid myself of this boy hair cut my mother shamed me with
But I could not blame her
I could not blame her for the quality of life we lived 
Due to limited resources
From sacrificing back to school shopping, to waiting for my father to come home from work and read me my homework instructions, and always reminding me to print my name at the top of my paper. 
From walking me the two blocks it took to get to school, and saying buenas Dias to Yolanda the crossing guard
From at home hair cuts in tears and silence 
Bringing back 30 year old memories of the Khmer Rouge take over
Her fingers were crossed that American school didn't require all black uniforms, red kramah, and assault rifles 
Fingers remained crossed, that the national anthem did not teach me to forget that my mothers land was stepped on, and bled on while the land on the other side of the pacific shines brightly