[what it means to be a queer first-generation vietnamese-american immigrant womxn]
to grow up poor, foreign, and docile
to grow up with split tongues, broken dialects, and false smiles
to lose your selves in assimilation rehearsals
to lose your selves in patriarchal circles
to be beat in the name of refinement and discipline
to be beat by a father tainted by an addiction
to stand in line at the grocery outlet with your mom
to stand by when a white man shouts to you both, "go back home"
to be cat-called, grabbed, and followed on the streets
to attract men who open doors for you but who don't care to respect your creed
to be asked to cross your legs and lower your voice inside the building
to be asked when you'll settle down when you may never bear your own children
to be adored by many but to be loved by few
to be ignored by hearts and to be every mind's muse
to be summoned by strangers for their comfort and entertainment
to be accustomed to little spaces in dialogues and conversations
to be everybody's somebody when your somebody is nobody
to be everything for everybody when your anything ain't carried by anybody
to fall in love with lost causes or false hearts that fall in lust
to fall in sudden darkness when your supports can't hold you up
to be a vessel that carries pain and stories of a thousand people
to be cut open time and again and to be filled with compounding grief
to toss in bed at night and to wake to the morning in tears
to fight your demons in hiding and in the streets for your right to be here
to ache as deep as you love and mourn as much as you give
to pray for death to come 'cause freedom ain't in this life that you live.