“I’ve spent most of my life in refusal of my mother’s body.”...more
Posts Tagged: daughters
In middle school, “Yo Mama” jokes infuriated me. My mother was so Chinese she couldn’t eat a hamburger without pinching her nose. She was so Chinese she wore bamboo slippers.
In a stunning essay for the Michigan Daily, Carlina Duan writes about growing up as the child of Chinese immigrants in America....more
My daughter likes to bang her head off the floor. It makes a point—an especially guilt-tinged one, given that we had to get rid of our carpets due to a mold infestation, so now there’s no cushion between baby cranium and wood....more
I’m sitting across from the man who looks exactly like my father would look if my father had lived to be fifty-seven. If my father hadn’t died sixteen years ago when I was thirteen. But he did....more
Question: How many years after realizing they weren’t in love did your parents stay together?...more
They told my father three hours. Ideally, she would have needed to get to the hospital within three hours for the best chance of recovery from the stroke....more
For two days, I fight the story welling up in me, denying the itch of the burn, the angry redness biting at my skin. And then I wake up the third day and say to myself, “My mom was raped when she was my age. When she was twenty-seven.”...more
We frighten away boyfriends, lovers, strangers, and we do not mind, because we are together: together, we are glorious....more
“In a way,” I say. “A mating dance. It’s a game. See, these girls compete to marry the boy. In each episode they have to impress him so they can win a rose.