I want to teach you a phrase in Urdu and Hindi.

Zor se bolo. Say it louder.

The phrase means louder in Urdu and Hindi.

I used to dress invisible. a level of me was hidden within headphone and instant messenger world. eventually I burst. vivid color, embroidery, chilinkark and mirror work, and taught myself to make clothing under the name Zorsay.

One hazy dance night not far from here i found the feeling of what I was making.

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Zorsay was born on the dance floor. I started writing this outside the bathroom line at Knockdown Center. Surrounded by bodies in motion seeking their own communion. Brown melodies from places that bring to mind both spices and bad passports to hold.

Zorsay was born with the Patriot Act. House music and the communal rebellion it brought. Voter registration drives in prayer halls. A 7th grader crying at the ending of 1984 with goth punk posters on his wall. Zorsay came from a bunch of British people who said let’s teach those brown folk some manners. When are we supposed to be finally taught?

My grandfather from Hyderabad was a migrant worker in the Gulf. Moved halal steak and cosmetics and rolls Royces to a place ready to consume. I can’t stand global Dubai built on his back. They never gave him the citizenship anywhere he lived. Not. For. You.

We need our own visions, better mirrors and better telescopes into our cosmos. Tell stories in cloth, tell stories in sweaty legs, tell stories in stolen kisses, tell stories with bubbled over chai, tell stories at mics, tell stories in a fled whisper, etch stories into the earth.

I shouldn’t exist, I shouldn’t be here, but I’m going to make something beautiful before anyone notices