people become their ugliness
and cannot scrub it off their face
asians aren’t clear-cut
“they’re all smart”
“of course you got an A”
“i want your brain”
not knowing that if we don’t
hell will claw from hands
weary with working since birth
in the form of words that
tear down dreams to replace it
with aspirations that don’t belong to us
because we love them and respect them
we have to pay them back, right?
we owe everything to them, huh?
why does it feel like we’re personal
moneymakers and not children?
from the moment we are born we are
destined to make others proud
from the moment we are born we are
fed by their validation (and rice)
and expectations are put on us before
we can speak
and we have to get good grades
and we have to be smart
or else, what use are we
than to be machines?
cut off the circulation to your imagination
and fill your mind with cold calculation
you won’t find casual conversation
and light family affection
the only things in this house are locked doors
our lives are filled with contusions as discipline
and blatant insults meant to be “tough love”
and the omnipresent “not enough” belief
it’s hiding our hurt because they won’t handle it
it’s hiding who we love because they don’t
get it and they won’t want to because
they want generations ( i don’t, can’t, won’t)
and if they do find out, it’s trying again and
again to get them to love you
or at least think you’re worth something
and if love isn’t a problem
it’s the intellect we have to —
must be — born with
we are no different
than others except.
i guess we are.
just don’t hold us to a pedestal
most of us are barely clinging onto
and it’s comparing, comparing,
comparing to everyone else
we have to be “better”
what does that mean?
asian women are not women but
small petite things meant to satisfy
your sick fantasies that don’t
spoiler: not all asians fit into the
same, tiny size
and, and, and!
asians don’t exist to entertain
you through cartoons
and make you think because of that
you’re qualified in the art of asian culture!
you’re almost as delusional as
the people who think asian girls are
you don’t see that we’re more than
animations – there’s more
you don’t know a thing
about the culture carved in our heads
you don’t have a clue
about how our suffering is punctuated
with fear-riddled silence
you don’t know one iota
of what it’s like
to be asian
you dangle my heart from a spider’s string
you hold it as though it were made of fine glass
i am so terrified of being shattered
but you decide to paint the glass in shades of your soul
things that are counter-intuitive:
1. worms escaping the pouring rain.
they can’t quite escape
though, can they? if they stay
underground, they wait for
death that seeps into their home.
if they try to escape, they reach a surface to meet death in its
undefined face. they can’t win.
they are left to squirm.
2. glasses in the rain. there’s no
way to see, really. you need your
glasses to see, but the rain sprinkles
blinding water onto lenses that
start to fail when this happens.
you take off your glasses to
avoid the drops and fog, but your
already weary eyes fail. (but you
already knew that).
3. living in a home that isn’t
a home, rather a monsoon.
and you find that you can’t
leave because you risk the
hurricane outside threatening
to drop and crush you; but
is it better than never having
a dry face underneath a roof’d
4. living in a constant storm
with no umbrella
and no interest
in finding one
your melancholy slips from beneath
your weary eyes
and you are not ashamed of it
you maim and stitch your heart all at once