Literature

Because they were surprised I spoke a different language and wanted to know what part of China my family lived ...
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- Trish Luu This drawing depicts the hands of my mother—the hands that raised me. My parents, both immigrants from ...
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Dear Asian Youth, Before... As the subway trains rushed by, I wrapped my fingers around my backpack's straps. My nails ...
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So this is who you are — bright young scholar, face like white peach. Soft and luminous. Ripe for the ...
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TW // Discussion of gender dysphoria and transphobia/transmisia. Dear Asian Youth, My mother raised me in a household where my ...
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TW: Suic*de, de*th, hom*phob*a ‘My mind is bisexual. It's easy for me to love a woman. It's also easy for ...
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A satirical piece about how the Western cosmetics industry and Eurocentric beauty standards frequently market any possible feature as insecurity ...
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Dear Asian Youth, While social media can be a great asset to social progress, as demonstrated by a certain organization ...
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Although childhood is a unique experience for every individual, some memories are universal: the crunch of buttered popcorn from the ...
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Everyone has a story itching to be told. In light of the recent rise of anti-Asian hate crimes, this article ...
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At 2 in the morning on Saturday, March 27, I sat at the dining table with my mom, craft supplies ...
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TW: Death, Trauma, Domestic and White Terrorism, Mass Shooting. Death is not a friend of mine But is more like ...
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Dear Asian Youth, here are two words: oppression (uh-presh-uhn): the state of being heavily affected by unjust rules and systems ...
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Harsh, jagged lines mark calloused fingers, Like cement split from an earthquake, The skin of their hands is cracked open ...
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Dear Asian Youth, I've always had a rocky relationship with my hair. Sure, I love the way it is now, ...
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The other day, I burnt the rice. With my mom away in quarantine and my sister unable to cook rice ...
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The ringing alarm sliced through Luke’s dreams. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and turned off the noise ...
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Dear Asian Youth, I dedicate this to the two places I call home. Home is a loud metro station squished ...
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While waiting for my summer photo to be taken on the school field and fiddling with the rainbow sequin headband ...
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"Weird." "Different." "Ugly." These were the words spoken to me at my picture day in 3rd grade. Little 6 year ...
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