They say act a certain way. They ask why your name is so different. They say you are fake because you were given that name. They ask where you got your face and then they tell you who you are.
They tell me to love my birth mother. They don’t know what a bitch she was. They tell me to love mother’s day. They don’t know I hate that day more than any other.
They tell me to learn Korean and to be more Asian. They don’t know that I’ve dreamed of being Korean my entire life. They don’t know that I’d kill to be Asian once more. They ask me why I don’t learn the culture and they tell me why it is important. They don’t know that I am a cultural mix. They don’t know that I am of no culture at all.
They say so much and yet say nothing at all. They tell me things I already know and make me feel worse for knowing it. They put me in a box with other boxes and wonder why I don’t know where I came from. They make me in the image of their creation and not the image I was created in.
They are always there.
They will never be me.
Jason Chandler Cushman