Ew, that looks weird!” Others chimed in and told me how terrible it smelled. So I threw it away. I even told my mom to stop making any more lunches for me.I was ashamed and embarrassed.I was only six years old.From then on, I began to hide parts of myself: my culture and my identity.
I became the “token” Asian friend, the “whitewashed” Asian. I’d shrug off all the jokes and comments my friends made about Asian people.They were my friends, so they couldn’t be racist, right?I’d tell myself over and over: They didn’t mean any harm.
I shouldn’t be so sensitive.The more excuses I made for people, the smaller I became.I’ve encountered so many peers, teachers, coworkers, and authoritative figures who would take a quick look at my last name and.
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