MUSICIAN, mallika-isis mahadeo

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REVOLUTIONARY GIRL UTENA[break]

[b]ANTHY HIMEMIYA[/b] - mallika-isis mahadeo

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oh, your hair is so nice, is it weaved? no, i do not have weave. so like, do you speak indian at home, or like black? no, we speak english. papa speaks to me in real french, the french you speak here is muddled and unclear. terrorist, go back to your country! i am in my country. you're so exotic looking, you should enter the beauty pagent! i do not think- oh don't worry! i'll help you, i'll make you beautiful. but i am already- oh no you're not! don't worry, i'll show you all my tricks. gotta find a way to lighten your skin though, maybe we should bleach it? i hear that's good for lightening skin. [break][break]



you ask yourself what happen, why it's come to this. walk across the stage, a million eyes staring at you. your skin is itchy, your face is heavy and you hate it. and then the crowd points and laughs. laughter so loud it rings in your ears, but you do not falter. this laughter does not phase you. eighteen years, eighteen years of this abuse and you can take one show more. one show more with people laughing about your skin, your accent, your family, your hair, your too thin, but not thin enough. one more show of, you're pretty, but what are you? you're pretty, for a halfie. [break][break]



the mic is raised to your lips, and the judge asks what you'll be performing today. a smile, perfected and practiced away from the eyes of your white 'friends'. just a song i wrote myself, you answer. they murmur amongst themselves, ask you to perform something else. but you insist, i'm sure you'll enjoy it. but they say once again, no, please do a cover of a song as if to limit your potential. to say, you cannot shine fully here and you falter to their expectations. [break][break]



yes of course, and when you open your mouth to sing. your words form your own lyrics, lyrics that reflect your experiences of living here. the judges never find out, but they're surprised at the result. you win the pageant by a landslide. you happily receive your prize, a photo and the sash. [break][break]



no one knows it's the quiet little girl with her hair done up all nice and tidy who rigs the poll.

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