I am Asian but I can’t do kung fu.

I am Asian but I can’t do that accent everyone wants me to say.

I am Asian but I don’t know Chinese.

Or Japanese.

Or Korean.

Or any Asian language. Sorry. 

I am Asian but I am not related to Jackie Chan.

Or Bruce Lee.

Or Lucy Liu.

Or that guy who made Dragon Ball Z.

I am Asian but my name does not come from Asia.

I was named after my mom’s doctor after she ran out of ideas

To name me.

I am Asian but my name does not mean “the white angel” or “cherry blossom flowers.”

It means small donkey. No, I’m not an ass.

I am Asian but I’ve never seen a Bruce Lee. Ever.

I am Asian but I am not in contact with Buddha or Confucis. As much as I want to learn more about them, I think I’ll be enlightened somewhere else.  

I am Asian but I don’t have connections to any Asian communities. I keep watching my friends from afar—sharing and gossiping in their family’s language. Jealous, I wish I am that Asian.

I am Asian. I do think of my Seattle grandpa. I do think of my Aunts and Uncles. I wish I can be part their world, be their Asian.

I am Asian. I am sometimes scared of being someone’s kung fu master.   

I am Asian but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch anime. Mom tries to make me stop but

SAILOR MOON.

I am Asian and I do like white rice. A lot.

I am Asian and I listen to K-Pop everyday.

I mean, how can you resist the catchy sounds of

Big Bang or Girls’ Generation?

No, I don’t know what they’re saying but I still love their songs!

I am Asian and I love mom’s homemade kimbap, eggrolls, and gioza. She also makes the best udon and ramen. Just saying.

I am Asian.

I am Asian and I am not ashamed to be one.

I am Asian but I am not ashamed of my face.

I inherit this face from my mom’s Korean side and my father’s Chinese side.

I am not afraid to show how proud I am to be me.