Image Credit: Foundry Co from Pixabay Originally written for The Mudroom. I was young when I first realized that my biracial existence inhabits liminal space. We piled into the sticky church van, and left the Californian mountains where I’d spent a week at an Asian American Christian summer camp. It was my first experience at a summer camp, … Continue reading I am a Threshold of Flesh and Blood
The first day of spring was the color of dust and stone this year. That morning, I backed our minivan out of the garage under a continuous cloud stretched across the sky, a barrier between us and the warmth of the sun. The skin around my eyes was puffy and pressed against the plastic rims … Continue reading Lament on the First Day of Spring
When I was a teenager living in the Midwest, I ate dried squid in the winter. My mom would roast the ojinguh in our fireplace while cups of Swiss Miss hot cocoa grew cold waiting on a coffee table close by. Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus sat on our mantel above the fireplace where she … Continue reading My Mom’s Love Letter: Ojinguh over Fire
I remember how the fear would thicken at night. After “lights out” I would lie still, wondering if tonight was the night I wouldn’t be afraid. Seconds later I would be under my sheets, the heat of my breath warming my face. I longed for cool air on my cheeks. I longed to be free … Continue reading For the Ones in Hiding
She lifted her hands to show me how small I was at birth. Her eyes bulged and she declared again, as if it was the first time she’d ever told me, “You almost didn’t make it! Did you know, you didn’t even cry?” There are those stories parents tell and retell, and by the time … Continue reading There is a Burning Bush Inside of Me
