BY HALLIE DONG (staff writer)
it means
to be happy
on days i wake
up at one
am
yet to realize
i’m in a
foreign country,
because of jet lag
it means
to try
and speak
broken mandarin,
even when
the family
laughs
it means
to keep
my smile wide
and to be proud
of what i stand for
it means
to be strong
when someone refuses
to call me
by my name,
instead:
“the
little
Chinese
girl.”
it means
to roll up
clumsy dumplings,
dripping with sauce,
and laugh
as i set it
in the pan,
it means
to be resilient,
like a bending willow,
when i don’t know
who i am:
when they call me
Chinese on the outside,
American on the inside.
it means
to repeat
after the teacher:
“yì pí mâ. yí piàn zhî. yì bî qián.”
it means
to frown upon
the strange wiggly lines
that i’m supposed to remember
for a test next week;
it means
to brush
my long black hair
and smile,
instead of wishing
it was blonde.
but mostly,
mostly,
it means
to feel,
to laugh along,
to be strong,
to stand up,
to be these things,
to shape myself
within,
it means
to find the bird
inside of me,
who longs
to fly
free,
it means
to be a part
of both;
and if you’re
good at math
you could say
she’s
just a 50/50,
but no matter
what the fractions
are,
I say
I’m
100%
Me.
