Stories about our personal experiences, and lives.
To My Grandfather
You lived through the Japanese Imperial Rule and the Chinese Civil War. You were an engineer in the People’s Liberation Army and came to the United States of America in your early sixties.
But a heart attack was enough to take you down. TW: Death
Dear Rejection Letter
This message is to high schoolers to assure them that their worth is not defined by what schools they get into, but by the effort they put into things they care about.
All I Feel is Joy
I want to explore how moving around all though my life impacted my unique relationship with all the people I love, scattered around the world. I want to write about how I remain emotionally connected to people when I cannot be physically close to them
A letter to my late paternal grandfather, who I only had the chance to meet once when I visited Nepal 10 years ago...
Choosing the Dream
My grandfather had immigrated to the US in the 1940s, leaving behind his home, his culture, and his mom. Devoting his life to running a Chinese restaurant so that his children could enjoy the American dream he began, my grandfather never had the chance to go back to China to see his mother before she died. My mom recalls seeing him burn the fake money, lamenting her passing. His eyes welling up with guilt as he stared at her photograph he kept on his night stand. Being one of the many female products of the One Child Policy, I understood the importance a Chinese son held, but it wasn't until now that I put two and two together... My grandfather held guilt not only because of his failure to visit his mother, but because his position as an America father removed him from his role as a Chinese son.
AP Statistics Changed My Narrative
I know I’m not the only one who feels like this, as AP Calculus AB tested everyone’s math performance. Kumon set me up for the class quite nicely — I breezed through the course, getting a 4 on the exam. For a lot of my peers who took the class, however, it was a nightmare.
I held his ballot tightly. It was just us outside, but I gripped it so that no one could take it away.
The ballot was thumping in my hand, the heartbeat of democracy. It echoed through both of us, beating a sacred drum.
You will have a conversation with your mother, sitting in between hot-white slats of ladled sunlight, about coming-of-age.