Wednesday, December 3, 2014

What I Can and Can't Be


Being stereotyped for the color of my skin is something that I am no stranger to.

Countless times I have been asked, "What are you?" Exactly. Like. That.


That questions makes me feel like I have some blaring, inhuman features, such as wings.


I CAN'T BE OF THIS WORLD


I was once walking around a mall, and this random lady became horrified and asked me, "What happened to you?!" I felt like my arm might have suddenly popped off.



But no. She was just talking about my short hair. Apparently, Polynesians all have long, long hair.



I CAN'T HAVE SHORT HAIR


I was once hanging out with a friend discussing music tastes and he casually asked, "Do you like Elvis?" I replied, "Yeah, he's pretty great."


He then proceeded to get angry at me, shouting, "Why are all Polynesians obsessed with him?!"


I'm pretty sure that he based all of his assumptions off of Lilo & Stitch

I CAN BE OBSESSED WITH ELVIS


I was put into a group in one of my classes right at the beginning of the semester. We had exchanged numbers, but a guy in my group was still not clear on which name matched which face. I don't remember how I explained who I was, but his conclusion was that I was, "The Other Brown One." 


There were so many other labels he could have used. Like, "The Tall One" or "The Girl with Curly Hair". These features clearly set me apart from the other classmate.


I CAN BE THE BROWN ONE


I once took a flight from Long Beach back to Salt Lake City, and as I was getting on the place the flight attendant asked me, "Where are you from?"


I then replied that I was from Salt Lake City, to which he promptly said, "No." I thought he was joking, but no, he thought I was lying to him about my place of origin. 


I CAN'T BE FROM SALT LAKE CITY


Thank you random people for telling me who I can and can't be. 

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Sometimes It's Real


Sometimes when you're sleeping...



...you feel a phantom hair across your cheek.


Then when you go to move it...


...you think it's a spider for a split-second.


But then you dismiss it as a silly thought, and you go back to sleep.


But sometimes...










...it really is a spider.


Saturday, December 15, 2012