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Yasmeen Fathima Thantrey
Website:
http://www.thantreyarts.com
Instagram:
@yazzbaz
Day 30
This is unfinished
Marinating chicken in the garden Masala in Tupperware on fold out tables Overlapping conversations in broken English Punjabi shouts and joy and haste I want my uncles to cry and my aunts to care At the child they once helped shape But it’s not the brief conflict and makeup Bending it like beckham won’t fix Years of being told my body Skin Passions Aren’t good enough It’s more complicated than I hate my family It’s longing for community that they were the foundations of It’s seeing all the toxicity fade away through vhs But the stories live on while there are voices to tell it Each side innocent the other to blame My side is innocent A child is innocent I can talk about things that other call trauma and shrug Because that was just how it was And it was never seen as trauma it was grooming Ripping the hair from your face at 11 is grooming Ripping the hair from your arms at 12 is grooming Hating and shaping the body you’re in is self improvement Self improvement of a child I know it’s wrong it’s not trauma But when I say it out loud So disconnected It needs therapy I’m robotic in the face of trauma we call culture But I long for my family I want the dhol to rumble the ground And the floor to shake with dance As it once did for my mother stained palms and soles Three days of food Being fed ladoos under red and gold chiffon Oiled hair by elders Cartons of mango juice bottles of fizzy Completely overwhelmed and little autonomy I want that more than grand hotels and three course meals on plates laid out for instagram
Marinating chicken in the garden Masala in Tupperware on fold out tables Overlapping conversations in broken English Punjabi shouts and joy and haste I want my uncles to cry and my aunts to care At the child they once helped shape But it’s not the brief conflict and makeup Bending it like beckham won’t fix Years of being told my body Skin Passions Aren’t good enough It’s more complicated than I hate my family It’s longing for community that they were the foundations of It’s seeing all the toxicity fade away through vhs But the stories live on while there are voices to tell it Each side innocent the other to blame My side is innocent A child is innocent I can talk about things that other call trauma and shrug Because that was just how it was And it was never seen as trauma it was grooming Ripping the hair from your face at 11 is grooming Ripping the hair from your arms at 12 is grooming Hating and shaping the body you’re in is self improvement Self improvement of a child I know it’s wrong it’s not trauma But when I say it out loud So disconnected It needs therapy I’m robotic in the face of trauma we call culture But I long for my family I want the dhol to rumble the ground And the floor to shake with dance As it once did for my mother stained palms and soles Three days of food Being fed ladoos under red and gold chiffon Oiled hair by elders Cartons of mango juice bottles of fizzy Completely overwhelmed and little autonomy I want that more than grand hotels and three course meals on plates laid out for instagram
This is unfinished
Day 29
Teaching an old dog Punjabi - Link
Teaching an old dog Punjabi
Day 28
Tricky
Day 26
PRINTY SILKY YUM
Day 25
anatoME
Day 24
Do you know why married women always cry at weddings?
Day 23
WEDDINGSHEDDING
Day 22
Homesick on Eid
Im homesick In a flat with my dogs And my lover But the smell from the kitchen That wrestles with the extractor fan And floats down the street Does not smell like home to me I want to wake up in the morning to sweet desserts and spices tickling the hairs in my nostril The doorbell to ring once or twice and it not be a delivery from an order I forgot I made A morning kiss and cuddle could never compete With a tight embrace over the shoulder one two three Tea and coffee rounds after every meal and in between Uncle and dad coming home after their namaz And we hug one two three And we feast Scraping the last grains of rice that try to stay on the plate into our mouths Fingers running along the inside of the bowl to get every last drop This morning I don’t even get a text I don’t know if it’s today or tomorrow Waking late to a meeting on the sofa My thighs fused with the plasticy cover beneath them I eat hash browns and bbq sauce while watching strangers travel the world And I cancel plans to fall into a habit I’ve spent years breaking Climbing into an empty bed with my screen rotating through clips of strangers To make me howl with 15 second laughter And swipe Swipe Swipe My mood swings to the far end of the spectrum I want wetness to fill my eyes But instead I frown Thinking it’s my flakiness or ruined plans But I’m just homesick on Eid
Im homesick In a flat with my dogs And my lover But the smell from the kitchen That wrestles with the extractor fan And floats down the street Does not smell like home to me I want to wake up in the morning to sweet desserts and spices tickling the hairs in my nostril The doorbell to ring once or twice and it not be a delivery from an order I forgot I made A morning kiss and cuddle could never compete With a tight embrace over the shoulder one two three Tea and coffee rounds after every meal and in between Uncle and dad coming home after their namaz And we hug one two three And we feast Scraping the last grains of rice that try to stay on the plate into our mouths Fingers running along the inside of the bowl to get every last drop This morning I don’t even get a text I don’t know if it’s today or tomorrow Waking late to a meeting on the sofa My thighs fused with the plasticy cover beneath them I eat hash browns and bbq sauce while watching strangers travel the world And I cancel plans to fall into a habit I’ve spent years breaking Climbing into an empty bed with my screen rotating through clips of strangers To make me howl with 15 second laughter And swipe Swipe Swipe My mood swings to the far end of the spectrum I want wetness to fill my eyes But instead I frown Thinking it’s my flakiness or ruined plans But I’m just homesick on Eid
Homesick on Eid
Day 21
Ammi
Day 20
Wvebeje d
Day 19
WIPPY DIPPY DOO
Day 18
a butterfly got into the masala
Day 17
On the line.... I could have been more creative
Day 16
No party
Day 15
Print me on a pillow and call me soft furnishings
Day 14
Werk
Day 13
Sign Good
Day 12
Ooh that is such a good sign
Day 11
FEMMEHOOD SLEEPOVER PARTY- DAY ONE/ 31ST MARCH IN COLLAB WITH SARAH COHEN
Day 10
collaborate with the devil- Rahat Batul Butt
Day 9
mother blood
Day 8
We can’t be friends anymore
Day 7
dance bb dance
Day 6
In the style of @em_plode
Day 5
Maybe Nottingham would be okay
Day 4
yaztini
Day 3
BLEND-UGH
Day 2
Nothing new but something revisited