Against My Activism

Dear Asian Youth,

Hush.

Be quiet.

Silence yourself.

You’re ruining your aesthetic.

All phrases people have said to me, even my own friends, when seeing

the things I’ve posted

the pieces I’ve written.

I’m expected to follow in their empty footsteps,

sitting on the sidelines just to watch and yell a sugar coated cheer every now and then

Only to be washed away by waves of blissful ignorance

I’m expected to disregard how our world is crumbling into ashes

Rejoice in our privileged bubbles

It doesn’t affect me, so why should I care about it?

Their profiles remain stagnant

As their feed reflects from my glasses

I think, it’s tempting

To just stop.

My mind wanders to all of the times that I thought I wasn’t doing enough

All of the times when I felt burnt out trying to keep up with everything,

What if I went against my activism?

My mother holds my face in her hands

“Anak, don’t be so radical,”

As she scoffs at the videos of

protests and riots

That she would never let me attend.

Her eyes pierce my skin

Slicing through my opinionated words