Chinese culture can’t be made bite-sized for mass consumption.
This non-conformist approach to adulthood still sounds radical today.
According to people I met back home, my face didn’t match my voice.
I found it freeing: to accept—instead of fear—gravity, to savor that brief float before the fall.
I believe so strongly in the beauty and autonomy of body transformation, but I’m worried that will erase the small visible echoes of my (and my mother’s) history of survival.
I don’t want to write today. I don’t want to write about violence today. I don’t want to write about honor or duty or respect today.
A lesbian Chinese American painter, she defied definition, which is why I was so fascinated by her.
My mom’s cellphone rang, but there was nothing, no notification of any missed call. She said, “That was probably your dad’s ghost.”
Sometimes even just a minor taste of something brings old ghosts back to me.