Middle school, was heading out to recess after my international day presentation,
And having some older boys slap the Chinese drama mask design sewn on my qi pao
Watching them run away high fiving each other and wondering,
Why were they laughing? What was so funny?
Middle school, was filled with the questions that people asked,
“Where are you from? No, where are you REALLY from?”
Apparently “Maryland” was not the correct answer
They want to know the ancient path of my ancestry that is imprinted into my DNA
The Taiwanese, or was it Thai? blood that flows through my veins
Why do I bother with repeating myself over and over?
When my words of
“My parents are from Taiwan but I was born in America”
And “no it’s not Thailand it’s Taiwan”
Just fell upon deaf ears and closed minds
Middle school, was the kids sitting across from me at the 7th grade table
Sniffing the air and wrinkling their noses
As the smell of my mother’s homemade spicy tofu and cabbage over brown rice
Escaped my thermos
Should I have eaten somewhere else? Maybe it’s better if I’m not around
At every turn, I had to explain my existence
A cruel reminder that, though I was born in America, I was not “American” enough
Differences pointed out everywhere, a reminder of where I am “really” from
But many questions later, my insecurity gone
I am proud of who I am, the strong person I’ve become
Though others may have questions, I no longer doubt
That I am Taiwanese American, and I deserve respect and love