The subculture of immigrants had nothing much to do with the rest of America. When the girls took sick, Mom would get a concoction from a local Korean pharmacy where they never asked for a prescription. When Dad lost his appetite, he would visit an herbalist in Astoria for a dose of bear’s galls. When her parents had some money they could put away, which was hardly ever, they would turn not to a bank but to a gae
, which was a communal-savings pool where a monthly lottery was drawn to grant the winner a lump sum. It was beyond Suzy’s understanding why her parents, like most Korean elders, preferred Maxwell House instant coffee to fresh coffee, or why they wouldn’t touch grapefruits or mangoes, though they kept boxes of dried persimmons at home. Had she stayed in just one neighborhood long enough, had she been allowed to build intimacy with one friend, one neighbor, one relative, then perhaps this perpetual Korea, which hovered somewhere in the Far East, might have seemed more relevant. She kept up with the language. She followed the custom. But knowing about a culture was different from feeling it. She would bow to the elders without the traditional respect such bows required. She would bite into the pungent spice of kimchi
without tasting its sad, sour history. She would bob her head to the drumbeats of the Korean folk songs without commiserating with their melancholy. But how could she? She recalled nothing of the country.
Yet American culture, as Suzy was shocked to discover upon leaving home, was also foreign to her. Thanksgiving dinners. Eggnogs. The Mary Tyler Moore Show
. Monopoly. Dr. Seuss. JFK. Such loaded American symbols meant nothing to her. They brought back no dear memory, no pull of nostalgia. Damian hailed her as the ultimate virgin. […] A blessing, he said, to be raised in such a cultural vacuum. But the blessing came with its price. Being bilingual, being multicultural should have brought two words into one heart, and yet for Suzy, it meant a persistent hollowness. It seems that she needed to love one culture to be able to love the other. Piling up cultural references led to no further identification. What Damian had called a ‘blessing’ pushed her out of context, always. She was stuck in a vacuum where neither culture moved nor owned her. Deep inside, she felt no connection, which Damian seemed to have understood.
—Suki Kim, The Interpreter
Airport drinks are never worth it, y’all! // #TBT to my first trip to LA! :) #NQLR14 (@RDU Airport)
check out my bio that my friend ferny helped me write
tell me that this aint beautiful
Through and because of her experiences as a queer Latina immigrant living in North Carolina, Daniela [*] has worked since 2011 to bring awareness to the challenges immigrant communities face day to day. She is not only an activist; she is a masterpiece of a womxn who loves to dance because rhythm, loving, and living has no borders. Currently, Daniela works personally and with local and national grassroot and non-profit organizations to highlight the struggles immigrants deal with surrounding access to education, as well as mental and sexual health.
they better not change anything in this bio (*they being the heads of the presentation) [*last name aint for yall]
its all ghetto and ignorant until white people want to do it
the best kind of friendships are fierce lady friendships where you aggressively believe in each other, defend each other, and think the other deserves the world.
i always get so :( sad :( about finding :) nice videos :) with :):) really nice messages :):) and then realize they’re by >:( people who are albeist and transphobic >:(
"bisexual women are not more accepted than gay men and lesbians, they’re more sexualized. and that is a huge difference.”
~Stevie Boebi (aka SassiBoB) from the YouTube video “Bisexuals are GREEDY WHORES”: Lesbians hate on and discriminate against Bisexual Women. Cut it out.
yall fyi some of the videos she participates in are very ableist and transphobic so fyi