I am from a shy little girl, 

too afraid to speak in class

yet ready to listen-

too comfortable with my silence 

yet longing to be the charismatic student.

Always thinking twice...no, three times before I spoke 

and patiently waited to say my few words for the day. 

I am from a line of resilient Syrians,

brave enough to visit home despite the horrors of war.

I am from a Ukrainian grandma

who still remembers the bombs of 1944.

Aware of their silence, 

I cannot be quiet anymore. 

I am from a compassionate Lithuanian mother 

who struggles to pronounce the -th sound in thirty 

and who has employed me as her personal Grammarly. 

I am from an outspoken father, 

who with I share my thick eyebrows and dark hair, 

but whose sociability I cannot share.    

Deemed the shy kid at school, 

I became a mime.

Limiting myself to nonverbal communication, 

and praying I wouldn’t be called on in class 

because 

I couldn’t crack my artificial persona.

Although I am from insecurities and self-doubt,  

I am also from courageous grandmas, self-assured mom, and outgoing dad-

whose battles against adversity have inflamed me to be uncomfortable. 

Uncomfortable with sharing my voice, thoughts, and beliefs. 

Starting off by writing this poem.