I am fighting the daily fear that the book that took me 17 years to find the courage to write will fall into the abyss of forgotten stories. I’m not alone in feeling this way, but what’s different for me is it’s tinged with a racial undercurrent that runs deep.
My mom, the other day, said to me, “Maybe it’s just not a good time for Asian Americans & our stories. People don’t seem to like us very much right now.” When she said that, I cried. I cried for the 10 yr old me who stood in front of the mirror w a banana peel draped over my hair
Wishing I could be blonde. I cried for the 25 year old me who was told at a dinner party I couldn’t make it as a novelist in the U.S. because of the color of my skin—“Look around. How many Asian American authors do you see?”
But this time, I did not just take it. “No Mom,” I said to my mother. “Now, more than ever, the world needs our stories.”
Read my full piece in @ELLEmagazine: elle.com/ocd/a32107527/…
Read my full piece in @ELLEmagazine: elle.com/ocd/a32107527/…
