A lot of you I’ve introduced myself as Chana but today you will know me formally, as Chanaly.
You see Chana was so easily digestible,
She was nice and to the point
Different but acceptable
Not for my lips or yours to pronounce
But to read off a dock, is admissible.
A couple of hiccups here and there but nonetheless, a spectacle.
The awkwardness of a hand raised to correct, but forgettable.
But Chanaly brought that fire, that sound of culture to the table.
That rice and beans.
The type of sound you hear when you eat meat, my mom said perfect.
That sound was me.
It was read like a poem
The way the mouth parts to emphasize the vowels
And create the flow of
A name from my parent’s name
Who celebrated their unison by having me
Now it’s a reminder of once was
What I’ve hidden in insecurity
I now stand tall in awe of my uniqueness
In that, I am one and nothing
I am not a shortcut or a silent nod
As a man tries an accent he’s never done it before.
I am not Chanel or an SH,
Or whatever name you switch out for
To make yourself feel comfortable
While I shrug off the embarrassment
Because you went off on a whim
Instead of asking
Because your assumption log
Gave away your mindset
That I’m not important enough iyf
To be mentioned
Like the thousand of names before me
That was too hard to pronounce
So you gave them a John or a Smith
And left them with no ounce
Of identity and pride,
To make it easy for your mouth
Well I’m not easy or shy
So you will say my name right.

I believe that my writing will save me.
From an everlasting longing of acceptance and despair that awaits when I’m alone. To the doubts that curl in my mind when life erupts a quiet evening. This year, my writing will be light and full of energy.
It will thank the sun for the vitamin d and the sky for its shades of blue. I will walk in the morning to feel my body stretch and move to each step. In 2023, I will begin to accept myself.
I will kiss every wrinkle and love every stretch that leaves a mark. I will recognize my longing for acceptance and message my therapist instead. I will process my emotions, through journaling and acknowledge that they exist. In January, my body will not define me.
I will turn every mirror that reflects only insecurities and not my inner beauty. I will give my body the nutrients it needs to process energy, not fat as a result. I wont seek for unrealistic results that jeapordize my healthy mindset. For the rest of the year, I will give myself credit.
I won’t compare my timeline to someone ele’s achievements. My process is an achievement.
My presence is unique and endearing.
I believe that my writing has saved me.
From an everlasting moment that was held for too long.
Too the doubts that are no longer welcomed in my mind of rest. I am accepting of change.
This is the year to do so.