Nanny: a Poem by Nia Hardaway

Is that your nanny? 

People would ask me on my way to school. 

Confused and amused, 

I would wonder and wander through the elementary school halls, 

Figuring out who this nanny was…

Only for me to find out, 

What those rumors were all about. 

“She doesn’t look like you though” and “But her hair is straight,” they would tell me,

Just for me to see,

That they were talking about my mom. 

The one who raised me, fed me, and bathed me, 

Just for her not to be seen. 

Instead she was seen as the neglected temporary caretaker of my life- 

“No that is my mom”

I would reply, 

Right after contemplating if I should lie, 

And say that she was my nanny.

After all, I didn’t  think much of my half of Japanese,

Because while I didn’t neglect my mom, 

I never felt  the joy that came from being someone- 

With the uniqueness of not just anyone.