About Me

My name is Aman (pronounced uh-mun). I am an Indian-American poet from Artesia, CA. As the child of immigrants, I am untraditional in my approach. If there’s a rule, I break it. If there’s a boundary, I push. If there’s a pen or a microphone in front of me, I am my most powerful and unapologetic self. I graduated from UCLA in 2014 with a degree in Creative Writing, and have since immersed myself into written and performance poetry, competing in venues and slams across the country. 

I am a National Poetry Slam finalist, a member of the 2016 & 2017 Hollywood (DPL) Slam Team, and a teaching artist in Los Angeles and Long Beach county. My writing is heavily tied to my work as an educator, activist, and intersectional feminist, pushing the envelope in my dissection of personal and political identity. My work has been featured on All Def Poetry, The Huffington Post, Vibe, and Button Poetry. If you are interested in booking me for a performance or workshop, please fill out the booking form and I will be in touch!

- Aman K. Batra

The Latest

On Sunday night, at 11:50pm, the adored man in this photo, Papaji –my grandfather, passed away. I grew up with not one, but two sets of parents. Two examples of what it takes to make a marriage work. We lived in an extended household with divided responsibilities. My grandma made me breakfast, my grandpa picked me up from school. They shared everything from routine to gulab jamun, considering each other in movement, in decision, in breath. Together they were refugees, business makers, nurturers. Dadima would often look to him and say, “you have given me the best life.” From raising three sons in Jinja, Uganda, to eventually settling in LA, they took flight together, and remained. They chose to stay in a love so present, it became prayer, reciting the other in silence and in storm. Their union was selfless practice, an constant avowal of God. I don’t know Papaji, without Dadima. I don’t know his heart without her hands offering permission to go gentle. The last phrase my papaji said to me was, “your dadima is great.” His final words beyond that were, “has she eaten?” Though my memories of Papaji extend beyond Dadima, though we have pictures of our own and I love him personally, his devotion to her was a blessing to witness, a code to live by. In my many attempts at writing a speech for the service and processing my own grief, this is what I am finding ground in today. This is my continuation of light, my welcome of hope. They had just shy of 60 years together, a “someday” so many of us aspire to know. In today’s world, they would be the epitome of #goals, but in their world, they just were. Without much thought, and without strained effort, they were. Still are. Always will be.
My backpacking trip brought poems. I will be sharing some tonight at @artshare_la. Doors at 7:30 pm. More info on my story.
MARVEL in all your big and small of 2018. For example “I just solo backpacked 5 countries in 3 weeks. I am a marvelous fucking thing.” All is valid. Your turn.
Obligatory fuck u I am getting tan for xmas post. Out here looking like a real life churro. This solo backpacking trip has been exactly what I need. Felicidades my loves! Hope your day was as full and bright as these sunglasses I got for 100 Córdoba 😛🌴
The process, de la cathedral en parque central de León al cafe de arte en Granada . . . . . #nicaragua #writing #poetry
I SPY my daily affirmations. I spy the white puffy ears I wore last Halloween. I spy political engagement. I spy underboob. I spy A SHOW OFF WHO WILL BE BACKPACKING THROUGH CENTRAL AMERICA FOR THE NEXT 3 WEEKS!!! I just landed in Cancún, then I’m off to Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica. The first photo is my 90 degree vacation expectation (doubling as a flex). The second is my messy hair mosquito prone big smile reality. I’ve worked hard this year. I’ve invested in myself and it finally shows in ways I can’t ignore. This trip won’t be all glamour (literally me and a backpack) but it’ll also exceed expectation. I just know it. Pls send me tips if you’ve done this before! And if you’re a slut shaming auntie, no worries, there’s more extra footage to come 💕💕💕
Imagine showing up to junior yr homeroom and instead of fucking SOHCAHTOA you’re learning about vulnerability and effective coping strategies. Fast forward 10 years and you’re on a yacht drinking Pina coladas with the nontoxic love of ur life instead of pouring whiskey into your coffee and ghosting another “wyd” text
“As it turns out” is a wonderful, versatile phrase and I highly suggest (over)using it Examples: As it turns out, I can consistently pay my rent As it turns out, Rihanna and I are both Aries risings and RED is our signature color As it turns out, the planets are still conspiring against me but once Jupiter figures out his shit I’ll be ok As it turns out, I got into all but one bar last night with an expired ID bc I have tits As it turns out, I don’t really have tits As it turns out, I am fulfilling the commitment of “2 posts a week” that I made with my pseudo social media manager @mansha__ by posting this. Aman two months ago would have said it’s not “gram worthy” As it turns out, thats bs. At the very fucking least, I am gram worthy. I am worthy period. The end.
when ur aunties try to set you up with their cousin’s best friend’s brother’s nephew who is a “match” and also a very gud 👌🏽engineer
& if you’re really lucky the person you choose, chooses you back and folks that’s what we call (requited) love or a miracle or building through the debris together or something I haven’t known in 5 winters or wow this got really dark have a nice day
Them: where are you from????? Me: here Them: no, where are you FROM from? Me: Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it Me: I’m from HERE here
Thank you so much to everyone who has liked, commented, and shared my poem with @bese. If you haven’t watched, it’s the latest video on my feed. To those who are new to my page, welcome! I’m thrilled to have you. I wrote “The Art of Rising” a couple of years ago to better understand my anxiety. This is the (abridged) version you heard in the video, though if you are interested in reading the full piece you can do so under the “writing” section of my website, amankbatra.com (link in bio). I hope this piece resonates with whoever may need it today. 🙏🏽🌸

Videos

 

Chapbooks

 
Combo Pack
sold out
Combo Pack
15.00

In my debut collection of poetry, I explore themes of love, identity, and culture. Both of these books go hand in hand (pun intended), and serve as reflections of my healing through the written word.

Add to Cart
Stolen Thing
sold out
Stolen Thing
10.00

The telling of my hyphenated identity. Each poem highlights ways in which white supremacy, anti-blackness, or xenophobia present themselves in simple forms — a concert, a 4th of July celebration, conversations with my mother, and more.

Add to Cart
Dripping Love
sold out
Dripping Love
10.00

Dripping Love is the continual exploration of a romantic relationship, documenting the unfolding the ways in which I rise and fall in love. This is some of my rawest and most vulnerable work, it has never been shared on social media before.

Add to Cart

Contact

Name *
Name
Cart (0)