Identity

two cultured,
my mind cluttered,
i struggle,
attempt to juggle. 

This photo was taken on a Tuesday morning before a long day of classes. Tuesday is by far my busiest day of the week, yet I conjure up the funkiest outfit possible in the small window of time I have before inevitably running late to my 11 am class.

Everyone around me is in constant motion, much like the waves roiling and knots coiling inside me. I so badly want to join in on the excitement. I want to enjoy the moment.

Cassie (she/her): Hi Emma Mei and Acacia, can you start by telling me a little bit about yourself? What year are you, what are your pronouns, what is your racial/ethnic identity, and how long have you been in Mixed Race Student Coalition (MRSC)

At eight years old, plead with your father to turn off the Spanish-language songs blaring from the radio. “English songs only!” you demand, longing to find a sense of familiarity in the lyrics of the songs you listened to. 

There are twenty-one of me

inside of me

One for each year of life 

on this Earth 

when i was growing up, the waves crashing against the assateague island beach sounded like mother nature raking her nails down a sandy chalkboard.

“Don’t do this job for your whole life,” my customer, an older gentleman with a shock of white hair says, smirking at me. It’s 3 PM on a Saturday.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what my life will look like after graduation. What job will I have? Will I be rich? Will I be happy? 

She loved going to markets and holding the fruit in her hand, feeling the tension of the skin and the pulp against her palm.