Don't Tell the Other Kids Too Much, You Don't Want Them Finding Out That Your Mom's White
Growing up, I taught myself to be closed.
Don't tell the other kids too much, you don't want them finding out that your mom's white.
I get a sting in my stomach like a needle whenever I'm asked why my biological parents gave me up for adoption - or as kids like to put it, "threw me out." The 8 year old me would be forced to smile and politely reply with, "I don't know." As the interrogator shrugged their shoulders and walked away to go play on the monkey bars, I would be left standing alone in the middle of the playground pretending to yawn so the other kids wouldn't know that I was getting teary eyed.
8 years later, I still get asked why nobody wanted me. I get asked if I speak "Asian," or if I'm that other Asian girl's sister. No, my name is not Ching Chong and I don't eat dogs. I'm not good at math and I don't know why I was handed over to the orphanage when I was only two days old.
I despise getting asked things I don't know about myself, or getting asked to explain things I don't understand.