Cancer
“How come you moved back to Sacramento?” to be home, to be with my family “everything okay?” yeah, I’m just supporting my mom through her health (and then the evitable question that always follows) “sorry to hear that, don’t you have siblings?” a curiosity coded in upset double standards (why you? the youngest boy taking care of your mother why not your sisters) they learned better than to just take care of themselves our boys weren’t raised on the same lessons my little sister always took care of my mom till she was 25 and grown finally moving to San Francisco I fought every part of my patriarch that told me she was being selfish how am I any less hypocrisy chasing my bay area dream job 30 years old of male privilege called ungrateful I attempt to reconcile the thousand of years of patriarchy as if I didn’t play in its imperial palace run feral across its lush pavilions chinese confucianism scorched across Asia tainted Vietnam with its male hierarchies the same hierarchy that lets me stay out late but kept my sister caged so she’s future good wife protected the same hierarchy that forces my mom to yell at my sister for her mistakes lets domestic violence off the hook and fall to silence lets my father leave my family unscathed and save his face but left my mother lonely with group of abandoned children parents treat boys as a cherished heirloom and girls are a (dow)ry investment weighed for inflation, submissiveness, áo dài pageant scores and the number of traditional recipes boys, already born of value girls, born apologizing to go prove theirs In Vietnam, women are the majority in agriculture, garment, and textiles they fought front lines in Vietnam Wars there are not enough museums to display their honor and 40 years after Saigon fell men in my community still exploit the labor of our women filial piety tells us to respect and care for our elders so I try to honor all the parts of my culture that makes me a better man learn that honest love should never be convenient women in my life showed me that care should look like a sacrifice no one ever asked for so I hunt for organic labels at grocery stores count out my mom’s vitamin pills like a blessing warm up chicken conge trip all over speaking Vietnamese like jump rope made of rubberbands hold her hand in the hospital long enough till she feels the sense of sworn duty leave my body just kindness, like my sisters taught me In my naive mind somehow I think maybe I can make standards a little less doubled and hierarchies a little more even in my foolish optimism If I can help my mom with her cancer maybe I can help the men in my community, with ours
