Maybe you didn’t get to choose your mystery-meat lunches, but you can choose the legacy that migration leaves for the next generation.
Maybe you like the sea-glass version of yourself that has been polished by years of cultural collisions. And maybe you prefer the more jagged edges of a bottle newly deposited on shore. Maybe, like me, your truth is somewhere in between - some edges polished and translucent, others raw and bright. Either way, I hope you will recognize yourself in these stories and find community within these virtual walls.
What’s in a Name?
My name engenders pride in my parents for the way it flows with my patronymic and the subtle way it proclaims that my story would be different. So then what happens when you abandon your name along with your mother tongue?
Let’s Co-create!
On the other hand, the pieces my mom and I design together stay in her rotation year after year. And voila - the impetus for co-creation!
Embroidered Sheets.
My mother still weaves these sheets into stories about our migration, describing the intricate little nomes sewn into the white linen. In that moment of empathy, the label of refugee was peeled away, and the manager saw my mother as just that - a mom.
Glitter Mom.
When I was in elementary school I had a friend whose mother was that classic “room mom”. You know the one - she decorates valentines with extra glitter and wraps treats in matching cellophane.
Oocytes & Ovaries.
All those stressors of my early years - the prejudice, migration, assimilation, and reacclimation - they forever changed my physiology, and maybe that of my daughters.