We think hapa babies are cute, / but we never stop to ask / If hapa means half, which half are we praising?
make no mistake, I'm not talking of wanderlust / that gaping-eyed desire for the exotic / this is what comes after
It smells like tradition and feels like / a baptism / new beginnings
Schrödinger's model minority—I am both privileged and not.
Foreign accents peppered the conversation like / the seasoning that I'd so lacked in the school cafeteria.
I’d never given my body much thought; it was simply a vehicle, and any movement was strictly utilitarian. So when I had to choreograph an original routine for dance class, it felt like trying to write an essay in a new language.
“I know this looks like a sheep, but I promise it’s a uterus,” I said, gesturing at the ambiguous cartoon in question.