I didn’t want to be called beautiful growing up. I felt like an object. Like an Asian doll that came in a box. Made in Korea. Traded for and expected to play a role. I hated getting haircuts. I hated wearing dress up clothes. I hated being the one Asian girl, human, and thing everywhere I was taken. I wanted roots. I wanted guts. I wanted to be able to scream. I wanted to be understood. To be heard. To be seen. I wanted to turn myself inside out. I wanted to WANT to be Korean. I wanted to WANT to be me. But being me meant being Korean. And being Korean meant only being Korean...not human. And most of all, I wanted to be human. And now I spend my adult life trying to figure out exactly what that is so I can finally be free to be completely human...completely me.
Break free of the fences inside your head...the ones trying to own you and tame you. Run wild and free the way you were built to be. Let your hair tangle and your skin fill with dirt. Pierce the world with your eyes and see deep into it and madly fall in love with it...even the nights, even the storms, and even the wolves.
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