

ena ganguly
ena ganguly (she/they) is a South Asian immigrant, born in Bihar, India and raised in Missouri City. A writer, editor, and facilitator, ena’s writing has been featured on Buzzfeed, BBC, The Austin Chronicle, and Prizer Arts and Letters. ena has served as the editor for Home-Making: On Belonging, Transience and Memory, in collaboration with the City of Austin’s Asian American Resource Center, and for SEARCH & FIND: An Unflinching Excavation of Coming of Age Stories, supported by Roots. Wounds. Words. and Carnegie Hall.
Other than working with organizations to support writers become authors, ena has written content for small businesses and nonprofits to bring character and voice to their branding.
ena graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a Bachelor of Arts in Government and Humanities Honors, with a thesis on women’s work and labor laws in India. In her free time, ena loves to go on late-night taco runs with her partner and tries to be a better plant mom.
To follow her and her work, visit her website www.enaganguly.com
erasure of feminine labor.
We give up
Our power
Slice off the
Magic
From our skin
Break the ties
Created between
Sisters
for men
to enjoy us
Digest us
One by one
Make a footrest
Out of our bodies
Use the flesh of our
Love
To get stronger
Day by day
Men get closer
To the stars
With their feet
On our shoulders
And when they
Decide
We have done
Our
D u t y
We are
pushed
Into the darkness
Raw, exposed,
Halved
We disappear
Without a witness
To testify.
hands..
I remember feeling scared of my body
As a child whose curves were sprouting
Outwards and upwards
In ways that could attract the wrong set
Of hands
The wrong set of
Intents
I remember growing up in ways that
Involved both lushness and razor edges
When darkness would mean as quick
And swift a touch
That was neither wanted nor invited in
But came to make a home out of my body
Any way
I remember laying my body out
In the dark
For years and
Years
Willing myself to understand
The difference between what is
Light and what is Void
A task I still have not completed
I remember being touched and wanting
To touch
But the deep river of fear flowed
Through my blood even then
Even when
I felt so safe in your arms
I still felt like a freight truck turning on its head.