"Who are you?" I ask the girl in the mirror,

She's short but cute, in that puppy dog way, 

She's blinking her big brown eyes, trying to see clearer.

She's shaking her shiny black hair, letting it sway.

 

"Who are you?" I ask again, but I recognize her face.

She plays the clarinet in band and loves all the melodies.

She's naturally a bright lightbulb, academically based,

She likes to test out new and strange remedies.

 

She's cheerful and kind but sarcastic as well,

She's counted on by everyone she knows,

Even if sometimes she's known to fail.

She likes seeing drama, chorus, and band shows.

 

This girl I see has gone through a lot,

being Asian yet also American,

born and rasied in the South.

She's been picked on too much to be counted on hand,

about her food, her hair, her clothes, and anything unlike the rest.

Her family pressures for her to be a lady

in Asian culture with lady-like finesse,

Prim and proper attracts the best, not shady.

Her American life demands rough and tumble,

Strong and invulnerable and nothing of the weak.

She has to like bacon and guns and not the too-humble,

She can't be her Asian counterpart meek.

 

But this girl has found a way to have the best of both worlds,

For though the two culture counteract and conflict,

She knows how to balance and dance both twirls,

She can eat bacon and dumplings, no need to pick,

She can treasure both cultures and love both equally.

"Who are you?" I ask the girl in the mirror,

but I know already who she is, familiarly.

"I am..." she answers back, "You."