Identity

“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.

Let me tell you a story. A story that I wish I’d asked for earlier in life. A story I received, in the form of a letter, on my sixteenth birthday. 

4 p.m. January 21st. An unassuming, relatively normal Saturday afternoon. The day I finally decided to cut off all my hair. 

Oh, how I love female camaraderie. I love the way our room booms with Ice Spice and NewJeans as we ask each other, “Do my eyebrows look even” or “Is it a skirt day?”

I want to get a workout in today. Should I go to the gym? No, that’s too scary. Actually, never mind, I'll go lift so I can feel strong and productive. Ok now that I’m here I’m really nervous. I kinda want to go home, but I'll just go inside anyway. I can do this! 

You just are, no need to play a part

Names and Pronouns and Sexuality

Can change as easily as the seasons 

It is accepted and no less normal

My fluttering feet had splashed up into the air–suspending, if just for a moment–in that beautiful, blissful moment when an overwhelming sea of blue rushed and rippled over my streamlined body as I swam in my neighborhood pool.

It’s January 27th today. Lunar New Year’s Eve.