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Showing posts from October, 2016

Locker Room Talk

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Facebook group chat:

girl: f**k i need to vent about men
so tonight was the last IM speed soccer game of the semester and f*****g no one shows up except for me, M, and J and it's like 2 mins to the game starting or we forfeit
so M is calling ppl up being like get your asses over here
we forfeit bc AC and BT show up at berkeley time but we're like "ok let's scrimmage"
other team is a bunch of really big guys and then theres M, J, B inexplicably in dark eyeliner and eyeshadow (for halloween costume i think??) and little ol' me ok so we're very clearly outmatched
but nbd, we start playing
from the moment we begin playing the other team keeps on saying things like

"pass that like a MAN"
"come on DON'T PUSSY OUT"
"SUCK MY DICK"  
to each other
and im just over here thinking... wtf guys
the whole point of everyone being outraged at donald trump for his whole "grab them by the pussy"  thing
is that that s**t is supposed t…

Neither Here Nor There

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"我不想我的肤色写我的--我的--uhhh--怎么说 'destiny'?" I said, frustrated, during one particularly angsty phone call with my mom. I was trying, clumsily, to say "I don't want my skin color to write my destiny." But there was one little problem--I didn't know how to say "destiny," and I wasn't even sure if my grammar was half-correct.

That clumsy declaration sums up my simultaneous attachment to, and flight from, the language that is my mother's mother tongue. Lots of children of immigrants can relate to the feeling of running away from the language their parents speak, seeing it as foreign, yet another thing to mark them as "other," or just inconvenient. I had a French neighbor who would speak French to her sons only to hear them respond in English: they were the blonde-haired mirror images of my sister and me in our rebellious childhood. We were Chinese school dropouts, tired of having to make the trip to Kirkland on Saturday mornings …