At this year’s 58^th Annual General Meeting, board director Sara Singh presented, in spoken word form, a poem entitled “Who Is She To You”.   Sara’s loving and honest reflections on living with a sister with a disability were powerful and moving

Who is She to You?
Who is she to you?
A question I hear time and time again,
Are you are worker,
are you a nurse,
wait, Not even a friend?
??! Who is she to you?
No she’s my sister, I say
Oh wow, they remark but
Still this look of disdain.

That’s so noble of you,
with a great big smile.
Still looking at her like,
like she’s something so vile.
A feeling not foreign
as the rage ensues,
let the truth be told
Sometimes I lose control,
and don’t know what I’ll do.

Who is she I say,
She is a Princess,
Can’t you see?
The crown above her head
it’s so heavenly.
But then I realize,
she has gifts you can’t see,
Talents you choose not to believe.

Who is she you ask?

She is an artist, a poet, a singer, designer, an advocate,
a friend.
She is a sister, a daughter, an aunt,
always there with a helping hand.
She is a young leader fighting to be heard,
to be realized,
to be given a chance.
A mere opportunity,
something more than your pitiful glance.

Who is she, You ask,
She’s a warrior, out here on a task.
She’s here to challenge your misapprehensions
Your notions of who she is,
And what she ought to be.
All things you think she lacks,
because she isn’t what you want her to be.
She’s here to break out of every box you want to put her into,
She’s here to set you free.
Free from all these societal beliefs,
All these limitations, all these labels you see.
All of the constraints that you place on her,
Mentally, physically, emotionally,

Spiritually.
Judging every one of her abilities.
And questioning,

her ability to be.

Who is she you ask.
She is a flawless.
Despite being battered and broken,

by the lack of expectations, judgments and criticisms.
By the harsh stares and miscalculations,
She is a warrior,
Taking it all in stride,
With her Head held high.
You see each negative remark,
Doesn’t leave a scar,
It helps mould a martyr,
thick skin and pain so deep
that the average being would drown
from the tears that they’d weep.

But not her

Strength of a thousand, Determination of a lion
She takes my hand, and Together we stand.
Stronger United, this force field is our shield and our swords are the words
That we breath
To help you see
That there’s more to this world
Than shallow misconceptions
And that someone who is different
By any standard
Still deserves the right to be.

Who is she to you, You ask,
Look at her again and you’ll see.
No explanation needed.
You just need to feel and believe.

—

A poem for my sister Gurvir, because “sisters help each other”.

 Thank you for just being you.

 

By: Sara Singh