India, Jan. 5 -- I was born like anyone else. Yet I was never treated like anyone else. The name Pariah was given to me. And its meaning was carved into my skin. I learned to walk alone. Quietly understanding That some lives are marked from birth Not by what we do, But by the ascriptive status. As a child, I carried things. I could not understand: A broom to erase my own footsteps, A pot holds my spit. As if my foot and saliva itself were impure. These were not tools of life, love, liberty, and light. They were tools of humiliation, of death and darkness. I loved once. Before I knew How the world judged my body, Before I understood That my love would be weighed Against my Pariah birth. Love like Kanchikacherla Kotesu's love Love like Miry...