Nicole Chung

  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    If I were a heroine in a fairy tale, I often thought, and a fairy godmother offered to grant me wishes, I would ask for peaches-and-cream skin, eyes like deep blue pools, hair like spun gold instead of blackest ink. I knew I would be worthy of it all. There was nothing I wouldn’t trade for that kind of magic, that kind of beauty. If you were pretty, if you were normal, if you were white, then the good things everyone saw on the outside would match the goodness you knew existed on the inside.
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    Don’t you want to meet your real parents?”
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    How come you don’t look like them?”
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    “You’re so ugly, your own parents didn’t even want you!”23
    It was the first time anyone had ever used my adoption as an insult, and it would have been shocking and painful enough without the eyes, the broken singsong chant. He screwed up his face into a squint, asking how I could see. “Me Chinee, me can’t see!”
    Was “Chinee” supposed to be a nickname?
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    And wouldn’t it be wonderful to go to sleep one night and wake up an entirely different person, one who would be loved and welcomed everywhere? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to look at your face in the mirror and know you would always belong?
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    Are you black?”
  • b2985985546has quoted7 months ago
    Of course the other kids would be curious about my birth family. Of course they would want to solve the mystery I, too, obsessed over
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