My Father's Favorite Concoction
For the last two months, every day I've woken up and had my father’s favorite concoction of hot water, honey, turmeric and cinnamon. It's helped me with my pain, my health and my anxiety. Some people question the recipe, saying it’s just “old Indian spices.” The same people that read Rupi Kaur’s Milk and Honey and the same people that do yoga every morning question a recipe my family brought with themselves when we immigrated to this country. The same people who didn’t believe Trump could be president and are holding up signs on how this country could be so evil to immigrants and refugees. Those are the kids who called me names when I brought food from home. They are the girls who made fun of my hair for being too black, bushy and monotone. The boys who told me they could never like me because I smelled like curry. Now, they are the same peers who love Indian food and wear saris to events. The folks who believe Bollywood movies are so awesome and creative. The men who now want brown women to teach them how to cook Indian food.