I am Asian but I can’t do kung fu.
I am Asian but I can’t do that accent everyone wants me to say.
I am Asian but I don’t know Chinese.
Or any Asian language. Sorry.
I am Asian but I am not related to Jackie Chan.
Or Bruce Lee.
Or Lucy Liu.
Or that guy who made Dragon Ball Z.
I am Asian but my name does not come from Asia.
I was named after my mom’s doctor after she ran out of ideas
To name me.
I am Asian but my name does not mean “the white angel” or “cherry blossom flowers.”
It means small donkey. No, I’m not an ass.
I am Asian but I’ve never seen a Bruce Lee. Ever.
I am Asian but I am not in contact with Buddha or Confucis. As much as I want to learn more about them, I think I’ll be enlightened somewhere else.
I am Asian but I don’t have connections to any Asian communities. I keep watching my friends from afar—sharing and gossiping in their family’s language. Jealous, I wish I am that Asian.
I am Asian. I do think of my Seattle grandpa. I do think of my Aunts and Uncles. I wish I can be part their world, be their Asian.
I am Asian. I am sometimes scared of being someone’s kung fu master.
I am Asian but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch anime. Mom tries to make me stop but
I am Asian and I do like white rice. A lot.
I am Asian and I listen to K-Pop everyday.
I mean, how can you resist the catchy sounds of
Big Bang or Girls’ Generation?
No, I don’t know what they’re saying but I still love their songs!
I am Asian and I love mom’s homemade kimbap, eggrolls, and gioza. She also makes the best udon and ramen. Just saying.
I am Asian.
I am Asian and I am not ashamed to be one.
I am Asian but I am not ashamed of my face.
I inherit this face from my mom’s Korean side and my father’s Chinese side.
I am not afraid to show how proud I am to be me.