To My Colonizer

To My Colonizer

to my colonizer

My name

holds the 

richness of a 

language 

centuries of 

heritage.

the namesake is a beloved, 

the essence is beauty,

the beat of a tabla* 

the sound of a thumri** 

When you say you don't want to say my name, 

for the fear of butcherin' it,

you butcher me.

The language, the heritage, 

the namesake, the beauty, 

all gone

because you decided my name

reminded you too much of what you did to my land.

Here I present to my poem called "change" which speaks about my real experiences with my hyphenated name. My name Jamal-e-Fatima means 'Beauty of Fatima', following the Persian grammar rule of association, yet using Arabic words, like ‘Jamal’ for beauty, and the name of our Prophet's (peace be upon him) daughter Fatima. I was named by my grandfather, and I have yet to meet someone with the same name. 

The first employer I had in Canada cut my name short, to Jamal. They said my name sounded too ethnic and long, so I should be called 'Jamal'. Till this time, I remain Jamal - a name that I have accepted as part of my identity now. This piece is a dialogue with people who do not want to try to say my full name. Those who keep saying, "I am sorry, I am going to butcher your name if I try," hence giving them a chance to escape. To me, it's almost like they are saying, 'If I try to say it right, I am acknowledging your existence'. My poem addresses why I think acknowledgment scares them.