With the help of my brother and his lovely girlfriend, I now have Manic Panic’s Atomic Turquoise, Hot Hot Pink and a smidge of Purple Haze in my luscious locks. After trying (and failing) to take a good selfie this is what it looks like. I’M THRILLED :D
These are kind of old but w/e. For the longest time when I was growing up, I dealt with a lot of internalized hatred and shame, and was so hesitant to be a part of the culture that I came from. I wouldn’t want to wear ghagra cholis or salwar kurtas to the mandir, I didn’t want to wear anarkalis on my birthday, and I used to hate wearing the bindi. Because of how much it made me stand out. I wouldn’t want to take roti sabzi for lunch, and would always ask my mom if she could make me a sandwich instead, so the kids at school wouldn’t comment on how weird my lunch looked. I’m sorry ma.
I am so thankful and so grateful, that I grew out of that, and can wear my bindi with pride and can go out and embrace my desiness with pride. Part of me will always hate myself because of the pain that I must’ve caused my parents when I was growing up, constantly rejecting their culture, but today I thank them. For letting me be a part of such a rich, beautiful culture. <3