Hip hop saved my life, yo.
I think and speak it in my rap flow,
Rhyming my way out of past misogynistic hurts & abuse.
Rebelling, growing, knowing, and healing the mental bruise.
Jumping, krumping, popping, locking my way out of despair.
Wearing it on my body- my fresh to def hip hop fashion savoir faire
That transcends into what society sometimes likes to keep secret .
And it’s more than an escape from my Gujarati Indian culturally sanctioned female role and meekness.
My hip hop threads show the different directions
I take on the gender spectrum
Cuz I’m fluid
And I always knew it.
But not so far back, there was no LGBTQIA to define
What I was inside.
NOT simply one singular gender American society and Gujarati culture assigned
Me at birth and shoved down my throat
All those years choking me in female quotes and norms.
But I resisted and fled
The female pigeonhole they spread
On me like butter on warm toast.
I naturally turned to Queen Latifah, Salt-N-Pepa, Tupac, Public Enemy to let me be me first and foremost,
A king and queen
In one body rocking these jeans flowing between
Male and female gender, fully expressin’
Myself in the safety of hip hop’s openness to the pliable identity I was professin’.
While many girls crushed on Paris and LL Cool J
I related to them- their masculine swag and sway.
But unlike those male rappers my flirtation
Had a different incarnation.
My feminine side loves dem hot boys- Missy Elliot.
My masculine side- it’s those androgenous girls that bring on the sweat.
So if you see me walking down the street in my pearls
Don’t assume I’m just a girl.
It’s complicated, yo.
And you best believe that part of me is a hip hop Romeo.