It is always easier to count backwards from the end than
forward from the beginning. Easier to orient yourself in your
own countdown than history’s fickle hands of time. Forget the
massacred family they had to leave behind, the lips cracked
dry with starvation and every heaving breath tasting like
blood. You’re not concerned with the women that came before
you even if their bodies bore the slashes of the same state
borders you protest against today. Even if they dreamed of
cutting their hair short and not being a woman at all. They
watched their friends with more than idle curiosity. They
eschewed desires that you believed they could never have.
They have your face, your thoughts, your love. But you have
a timer about to ring, a party to attend, a history to forget.
Dija is a Bengali poet from London. Their work explores experiences of life and love through a queer/trans person of Colour lens and aims to intimately connect to people as a means for collective liberatory practice. You can find them at @dijamhn on Instagram and more of their work on X @dijamhn
If you’re interested in our work on the intersection of gender, race, sexuality and migration, check out our Who is Welcome: Gender, Queerness and Migration including our piece on Erasure, Lesbophobia and Migration for Lesbian Visibility Week 2024.