Poem by Esha Kannan

Ignored and Unfed

​I seriously do not know
What is wrong with me?
In my opinion
A normal internalization
And this is not called overdramatic
Despite what most say
Because I am deaf
But not enough to realize
How others truly perceive me
With blatant ignorance
Or an obsessive relentlessness
To supersede me
As much as possible
Reactions usually go
One way or the other
And so it is unfortunate
That we cannot seem to coexist
Since we forget about our similarities
For example, we speak
I have a voice
One so obnoxiously loud
That it could be easily mistaken
For a thunderstorm
But with a human tune
With less intention to bring havoc
And instead more motivation
To advocate for myself
It is necessary
Because without my mother
How do I trust that
anyone else knows me
For me?
She is the only person
Who sees my potential
And sees that I am
The whole package
As an individual who can
Provide sweet banter
And thoughtful advice
And a timeless
Sense of humor
I am able to
Provide all of this
Even with a disability
To me
Speaking is living
To at least try
And put myself out
In a world where
I cannot easily belong in
Where being a piece
Of an incredibly tiny minority
Has its downsides of invisibility
Due to this
One problem I persistently have
On a daily basis
Is hunger
My plan for communication
Almost backfires
Since asking for meals
Takes me
An unreasonable amount of effort
I am used to food insecurity
But that does not mean
I should accept it without complaint
Whenever at restaurants
I am sure to wail like a lengthy siren
To communicate an emergency
Of my stomach continuously grumbling
Like a dormant volcano
Soon to erupt
If left unsatisfied
Most waiters do this
Because that are unfamiliar
With sign language
Which leaves them
To depend upon others
To face me instead
But there is only so many individuals
Involved in what seems to be
Family-owned food businesses
Along my home street
That any request of mine
Never gets fulfilled
No lunch break between work
Seems worth it
No ridiculously bright red Marinara sauce
To top a bowl of spiced spaghetti strands
Or a neatly baked, but slightly charred
Flatbread with hummus and pesto
Which is still a scrumptious feast
There is nothing much for me
Which is why I must suffice
With whatever is left in the office vending machine
A few sugary, chocolately, and sometimes stale
Energy bars are what I seek every afternoon
Which is sustainable calorie-wise
but these lack the nutrition value
To maintain strength throughout the day
And keep focus at a high
Food accessibility is also difficult
At grocery stores
Transactions at the check-out line are awkward
And most of the time
The clerks lack the decency
To even attempt and translate a message
Using a black-ink pen and notepad
That I am short in the cash
Needed to pay for what I want
This means I must drop everything
And come back another day
Maybe I will be lucky then
But these type of interactions have repeated
And so I remain unhopeful
Of my ability to secure
Even a sliver of a chicken thigh
Or a plastic bag
Of a few tomatoes and cucumbers
Searching through my kitchen fridge
At hours on end
Is what my weekday evenings are about
And it will remain this way
If no one is willing to change
And empathize with those
Who need food and a decent meal
Just as much as anyone else
I seriously do not know
What is wrong with me?
In my opinion
A normal internalization
And this is not called overdramatic
Despite what most say
Because I am deaf
But not enough to realize
How others truly perceive me
With blatant ignorance
Or an obsessive relentlessness
To supersede me
As much as possible
Reactions usually go
One way or the other
And so it is unfortunate
That we cannot seem to coexist
Since we forget about our similarities
For example, we speak
I have a voice
One so obnoxiously loud
That it could be easily mistaken
For a thunderstorm
But with a human tune
With less intention to bring havoc
And instead more motivation
To advocate for myself
It is necessary
Because without my mother
How do I trust that
anyone else knows me
For me?
She is the only person
Who sees my potential
And sees that I am
The whole package
As an individual who can
Provide sweet banter
And thoughtful advice
And a timeless
Sense of humor
I am able to
Provide all of this
Even with a disability
To me
Speaking is living
To at least try
And put myself out
In a world where
I cannot easily belong in
Where being a piece
Of an incredibly tiny minority
Has its downsides of invisibility
Due to this
One problem I persistently have
On a daily basis
Is hunger
My plan for communication
Almost backfires
Since asking for meals
Takes me
An unreasonable amount of effort
I am used to food insecurity
But that does not mean
I should accept it without complaint
Whenever at restaurants
I am sure to wail like a lengthy siren
To communicate an emergency
Of my stomach continuously grumbling
Like a dormant volcano
Soon to erupt
If left unsatisfied
Most waiters do this
Because that are unfamiliar
With sign language
Which leaves them
To depend upon others
To face me instead
But there is only so many individuals
Involved in what seems to be
Family-owned food businesses
Along my home street
That any request of mine
Never gets fulfilled
No lunch break between work
Seems worth it
No ridiculously bright red Marinara sauce
To top a bowl of spiced spaghetti strands
Or a neatly baked, but slightly charred
Flatbread with hummus and pesto
Which is still a scrumptious feast
There is nothing much for me
Which is why I must suffice
With whatever is left in the office vending machine
A few sugary, chocolately, and sometimes stale
Energy bars are what I seek every afternoon
Which is sustainable calorie-wise
but these lack the nutrition value
To maintain strength throughout the day
And keep focus at a high
Food accessibility is also difficult
At grocery stores
Transactions at the check-out line are awkward
And most of the time
The clerks lack the decency
To even attempt and translate a message
Using a black-ink pen and notepad
That I am short in the cash
Needed to pay for what I want
This means I must drop everything
And come back another day
Maybe I will be lucky then
But these type of interactions have repeated
And so I remain unhopeful
Of my ability to secure
Even a sliver of a chicken thigh
Or a plastic bag
Of a few tomatoes and cucumbers
Searching through my kitchen fridge
At hours on end
Is what my weekday evenings are about
And it will remain this way
If no one is willing to change
And empathize with those
Who need food and a decent meal
Just as much as anyone else

---

BIO: Esha Kannan is a freshman at the University of California at Davis who is studying data science and passionate about advocating for underrepresented groups, especially neurodivergent individuals. She enjoys creative writing and she been recently into poetry as a way of self-expression and communication about issues she cares about most. In her free time, she loves going out in nature, meeting new people, and playing sports such as volleyball and ultimate frisbee.