White man likes the way I lookHe says something on the lines of exotic-About Jasmine entrancing the air above meMy hourglass figure, the way I walk, the way I talkWhite man "Keep driving", I sayHe says my problem is that-I am too foreign for my own body, not native enough for this land But white girls still ask me where I'm REALLY fromHe likes the way I wear my skirtBut he says I run my tongue filthy as if to spit at my ethinictyIt is half past 12 and I desperately need a ride back homeWhite man offers to driveAnd softly, tucking my hair behind my ear, he whispers"You do know what I want, right?"I say, "I do not"And suddenlyI feel like one of his white girls-Too foreign for my own body, not native enough for this landHe leans forward, and slips his hand under my skirt saying"My boys love Asian girls, luscious hair, tanned Kardashian skin"And suddenly I want to set fire to every individual hair on my bodyBecause, fuck you.My mother questions my cultureShe asks me why I am nothing like the girls back at homeWhy my hair has sadness seeping through its rootsI try to tell herThat I do not know where home isThat I am too foreign for my own body, not native enough for this land-Nicole RuthArtwork via Tumblr @moosleemargh