I Am Who I Say I Am
I Am Who I Say I Am
Half Ostrich
I once ran across a reaction to a poem. It’s strange to think that I’m exactly like this discovery, I’ve been filtered not once but twice or three times.
The Re-examination of Racial Identity
Lately, I’ve been feeling like a little fish living her life in a great, round fish bowl. Now I know that sounds far-fetched and strange, but let’s say I’m a fish. I know I’m not; I’m a fine, living breathing human.
The Power of a Name
My parents chose a beautiful, Sanskrit name for me. I loved the way it sounded as a small child. I loved that the meaning it carried symbolized clouds and purity. It connected me to rain, to storms, and nature. I was proud of those seven letters.
My mother was a diplomat too even if she was just a housewife
Having the chance to live in a diplomatic household, I’ve had the privilege of traveling and living abroad. I also had to tell my friends of my life’s story of how I was able to live abroad and why I took International Relations as my master’s degree.
Brown Sugar Beauty: Renouncing Internalized Colorism
I think, for the majority of my childhood, I wanted to be white.
The Matter With My Skin
The thing about Vietnam is that with colonialism by both China and France, and it’s proximity to South-East Asia, Vietnamese people are extremely diverse in physical appearances.