Vin closes his eyes and bares his soul, meaning each word of the song, and isn’t that the point? Vin never claimed to be a good singer.
This film is an opportunity to help rescue Fanny Mendelssohn from near-obscurity; and to do the same for me.
I imagine she wrote it for women like me. Women who wear their hearts on their sleeves but hold their hands over their mouths.
Guy Fieri allowed me to ask: who do I fear noise and brightness for? Who do I fear food for? And he gave me the answer: I fear it for myself.
At the time, I didn’t know I could be anything but a girl, a quiet Chinese American girl, cute and easy to ignore, but Kurama hinted at other possibilities.
I had not been erased by the violence I’d suffered, but was changed by it. A new, difficult layer had been added to my life.
Wrestling never stops, so I couldn’t stop, and thus I am still here.
As euphoric as my queer epiphany felt, I’d had it as my mother lay sick. It felt like I was reentering the world as my mother was leaving it.
My idea of home had changed, so I took the symbolic step of finding a new tailor—marking Philadelphia as a place that now fit me right, too.
I go to Japan, pulled like a magnet, to see what is mine, undiscovered or forgotten; to see what will never be mine; and to find some way to reconcile the two.