My mother never liked talking about her childhood. I grew up thinking she was from Los Reyes, Michoacan, Mexico; when I started writing this piece, I learned this was a lie. My mother is actually from Los Pallilos, Michoacan, in other words, el rancho. She describes this place as simple, a simple town with simple…
Memories of my childhood feel sweet and hazy. I recall going to the beach for hours on end, collecting seashells and building flimsy sandcastles. I think of my neighborhood friends with whom I’d create elaborate fictional universes, all of us acting as characters in the quiet corners of our cul de sac. I remember the…
I love being Taiwanese. But I am exhausted by it. I want my existence to be known, not debated.