For years I have wavered Between my identity and a mask I've been reprimanded, scolded, hit, Because I was losing our roots.
I try to fit in. Be more.... Canadian. But it seems society won't fully encompass me into their elite circle. And neither does my family.
I teeter between who I am. Trying to keep our language while learning the country's. It feels like an impossible feat To be two at the same time When I don't even feel like one.
I used to be ashamed of my Asian roots. Ashamed of my dark hair, the shape of my eyes, the slight tint of my skin. I wasn't happy with this part of me. And it was clear some people weren't either.
I have seen friendly cashiers harden their eyes when it was my turn, Our reliability questioned, Scoffs and eye rolls thrown our way.
I didn't understand why we were different. More specifically, why we were a bad kind of different. I’m just trying to find where I belong— Trying to save my roots while blooming flowers of every colour.
I’m trying. But it’s so hard.
*** Hi guys... I was a little hesitant in writing these thoughts out, much less posting it. I realized with this piece, I was straying farther and farther away from poetry. I'm not quite sure what I'm writing now but hahahahaha I try. Cheers!