Class Unknown
Panawee Sakulwannadee
The teacher asks me a question.
I know the answer.
I know the answer.
But I’m afraid to say it.
The world goes white.
An anxious calm washes over me
(like a tsunami)
it crashes into me.
It’s been 5 seconds.
I know what they’re going to say, what they’re going to think.
“She doesn’t sound thai.”
“She sounds like a foreigner.”
“Why is she in this class?”
Or is that what I’m thinking?
It’s been 10 seconds.
It’s been 12 seconds.
Say something, anything!
Prove to them that you’re thai!
That your “western lifestyle” hasn’t tainted your cultural heritage!
You don’t go to temple, you’ve been going to an american school your whole life, you’re
sensitive, you’re weak!
Be proud of your language! Your country!
Say something!
“คณุ ครู, แปลในอังกฤษสิเพราะวา่ เขาเขา้ ใจแต่ภาษาอังกฤษ!”
I hear laughter. Or is that in my head as well?
I don’t hear what the teacher says next.
I don’t even know if anyone bothers to argue with them.
I only hear myself.
My friends tell me it doesn’t matter, that I should be proud of who I am.
(I’m an artist, I’m a friend, I’m a daughter, I am my own person.)
I know it shouldn’t matter.
It really shouldn’t.
But it all comes back.
All those little offhanded comments in mundane places, spaces where anyone can hear.
“It’s a thai joke, you wouldn’t get it.”
“All my other thai friends don’t cry at a little teasing!”
“Oh, she doesn’t speak thai that well.”
“Are you sure you’re not half…something?”
“Oh, your word arrangement just isn’t that good.”
“Why don’t you just practice more?”
Brushed off, like a fleck of dust on a finely trimmed suit.
They don’t see the pile that grows bigger and bigger with each passing moment.
I open my mouth to speak, to argue, to spit out a retort.
All that comes out is a cough, a wheeze.
A horrible hacking that doesn’t seem to stop until I close my mouth again.
Just accept it.
This is you, isn’t it?
I am what other people say I am.
(Or am I me?)
I see the cage being built around me.
And I have the keys.
But why do I stay?
