Dancer. Standup Comedian. Realistic dreamer.
Made in China, but not your tiger mom’s daughter. Lover of Argentine tango, aka dancing backwards in high heels, aka practicing the impossible art of being female. Despite her sunny, sweet disposition, this one knows how to bite.
This is typical when I, a first-generation immigrant of Chinese descent, meet someone new. “Where are you from?” “Seattle.” “No no no, where are you REALLY from?” (Rolling my eyes, I know where this is going) “China." “NOOOOO.... you look way more Korean to me. I always know the difference!” Oh, do you? Even I cannot tell the differences between Korean and Chinese women anymore. They all look exactly the same to me, someone who was born and raised in China.
I’m 100% made in China. And like everything else made in China, I’m a little… defective. You see, I don’t know how to hold my chopsticks properly. In fact, it’s not just me, but my entire generation - all of us born in China in the 80s. I can always tell which Chinese person at Din Tai Fung grew up in China versus those raised in America by how they hold their chopsticks. Don’t believe me? Listen, chopstick wrappers in
