You know, it's a funny thing. 

To be called Asian-American. 


I have a million thoughts running in my head, so bear with me here. 






I go back to my home country, and I am called American.
I go back to America, and I am called Taiwanese. 


I jump between two cultures because 

I am two cultures. 



With the increased numbers of attacks on Asians since COVID, I was suddenly made more aware of how 

different


I am. 


No matter how many years I have lived in this country, raised in this country, tried to blend in with this country, looked in the mirror and tell myself "I am both cultures",

I am different. 



I finally accepted the "different" with joy and love when I dived deeper into the questions and anger I unknowingly had during my college years. When I finally found a group of people that was asking the same questions and laughed at the same jokes. 

Asian Americans. 



It was already hard enough to go back to my own home country that I left at such a young age, expecting immediate comfort and acceptance to only receive the answers:

You are American. 
You speak Mandarin so well. 


But here? 

You are Asian.
You speak English so well. 


The difficulty of speaking both fluently... but to be told I will never be fluent. 



So. 
Where do I belong? 

Is it wrong that I am different? 
Is it wrong that I am both? 
Is it wrong that I want to be both? 



Both cultures have their beauties and scars. 





Both cultures have accepted and rejected me. 








Why are you angry at us? 


Why are you hurting our grandmas, grandpas, uncles, aunts, mothers, and fathers? 



Do our faces stir up such hatred and wrath inside of you that only our deaths can 
calm
you
down? 





When I have finally found both parts of me beautiful, 


I have to hide again.




But do I have to? 




No. 
I do not have to.

No.
I will not. 



I will speak.
I will shout.
I will scream.
I will weep.

I will proudly say

I am both. 


We want justice.
We want peace.

I will shout those words even if I make all those around me uncomfortable because
you should be uncomfortable. 

Uncomfortable with the fact that people died. 
Because of how they look. 


People died. 
Because of who they are. 



So look at my face. 
Look closely. 



This is me. 

I am Asian.
I am American. 






And I am beautiful.