Asian parents, where is your pride? If your child looks Asian, has small eyes, why are you making them feel less than perfect? When did we start wanting larger eyes? You realize that bugs fly easily into people’s eyes that are larger right? And didn’t you get the memo that God granted unto Asians “natural shades” which come in the form of our nicely slanted eyelids? Grow some pride!
This article bothers me on so many levels. That I know it is somewhat true really pains me, because I know Korean parents can be like this. Asian parents in general are very hard-edged when it comes to telling their kids what they “think” is wrong with them. I have seen Asian mothers and female relatives gang up on other women and break their spirit with condescending remarks. “You are fat, your eyes are small, your skin is too dark, your feet are fat… the list goes on and on. You thought Asian parents were just hard on their kids about grades? Please, even I know they are hard on their children for just about everything, and I don’t even have Korean parents.
This is not to say other nationalities can’t be just as cruel towards their children. I am sure it goes on around the world. What I can speak for from my experience is from the Asian perspective. I wrote about kids having their eyes cut a while back, not on this blog actually. It is sad to me that a child, person, or grownup might not be proud of the way they look. I can remember all too well as a kid crying in my bed asking God why he made me Asian instead of white, black, or other. The internal struggles of a person growing up are hard enough without finding doubt within your own home to validate what you “think” is wrong with you. Even I must remind myself of this hard lesson; jokes can hurt as much as offensive barbs. We would do well to remember that we get only one chance to live life. Why live that life wishing you were someone else? Sounds like a waste of a wish to me.
You stand proud and sure of your own worth. The knowledge and intellect that you have you use for your own understanding. You seek answers even when answers are given. Always curious, nothing is safe from your scrutiny. You argue and laugh seemingly without mercy. You list your reasons and you hold to your convictions. You do not need man, woman, or child telling you what to believe. Dusty books and literature hold no meaning. There is no truth but the one that you uncover. You have heard man’s thoughts, let them hear yours. You are the God Killer.
I do not even behold her physical image at the first glance, simply a reflection is all that is needed to take passion’s hold. The smell of her French perfume infuses the lust within and with extended finger coaxes forth the rage inside of me. Movements captured forever within a capturing mind, she becomes my prisoner before chains have even clasped her wrists. Delicacy tantalizes the mind forcing transition’s movement in this tale we are about to write. We dance past the necessities of mere mortals and I feel certain you will accept your place upon appropriate pedestal as I take you. Gently now… come quietly into the night and force not my trembling hands to meet in wanted permanent clutch. Not just yet.
Remorse is for those with compassion, instead we meet The Urge. He sits beside me at the bar and whispers words of encouragement and comradery. Another drink to try and quench the fire that still burns hot. I sweat within my skin, not from nerves but from the realization of a dream. And what do you do now that your dream has been fulfilled? Does one return as normal to the everyday robotic life of those that have never lived a fantasy? Thoughts with sugar, taken with two shots of Grey Goose, shaved lemon, stirred with ice and served by a smile that gives life to a fresh want. I ponder dreams mixed with memories as I smile and know in my heart… the reality has just begun.
Darkness comes and then there is a light. It stands before me in greeting and I rush forward with surprising urge. Mere inches away I feel a pull, there are dark chains connected to my back. They keep me from advancing towards the warmth. I suddenly feel them begin to pull me back into the darkness. There is a wrongness that is not worded, but I somehow feel knowledge gained that something is not right. One chain dangles before me and begins to shake with invitation, I grab at it with desperate hands. As I begin to yank upon my possible lifeline I look up at a familiar face, she glows with radiance and resolve as she stares down upon me. Understanding comes with violent punch upon my soul as the pieces come together of what has happened. I feel a release of pressure and watch as she drops her end of the chain, my last hope, with a dispassionate gesture. The one below allows me plenty of time to understand that her action is the last in my life, as the tale’s last word is penned with my wordless cry.
Winternight freeze my soul. Solidify it against the compassion that seeks to infest my heart. Harden my demeanor in the days to come.
I stare across a sea of frozen blades of grass. They crack and pop with the realization of their humanity. Their screams join the sounds of growth that surrounds them, pictures of life amongst the graves of the dying. Crystalized limbs reflect the light of heaven and shine a beacon into the face of God. To make him aware that though we may die with the coming sun, we were here once and we mattered. Remember us.