Where I’m Really From

I was seven when I first visited Taiwan. My parents referred to the three-month trip as “going back”, a return to the motherland. But for me and my siblings it was a novel experience, journeying to a place we knew only through our parents’ stories and long-distance phone calls. In the beginning, I complained a…

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So Proudly We Hailed

As the last passengers filtered out of the jet bridge, my dad had to subdue his panic. Did she board the right flight? Where could they be? Are they okay? And just as fear began to flood his chest, my mom’s tiny frame slid into view with my one-year-old self tucked in her arm. She would later explain that she had intentionally waited for everyone else to exit before attempting to juggle an infant and all her belongings. We had arrived safely.

It was my first day in America.

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