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#immigrant parents
muskaanayesha · 1 year
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Peace be upon the daughter who helped her parents grow up. Accepted their cold shoulder, excused their anger, pardoned their mistakes, taught them how to be human. Peace be upon the sister who paid the price of rebellion. Screaming to her fullest, shaking like a leaf but standing tall, never letting the dictatorship go without a fight, paving the path for her siblings to breathe easier. Peace be upon the first child of an immigrant father. Aching to find their own purpose in life, firm in their own beliefs, contradicting generations and generations of cultural values. Peace be upon the girl who shouldered her mother's trauma. Swindled it into her own, morphed herself into an image of the womb she once resided in, immersed herself into troubles that weren't even hers, covered up scars that she couldn't even recognize. Peace be upon the woman who forgot who she was. So determined to be the savior of everyone, to fix her family, to nurture and love everyone around her. So deeply lost that she forgot she's just as worthy of love. Peace be upon you.
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venlo · 11 months
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eating an orange/mandarin alone, with no one to offer a slice to, must be the loneliest feeling in the world
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bluestreetlights · 1 year
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i just want to thank the ppl who worked on tlou. my dad loves watching apocalyptic shows but he has a really hard time finding them dubbed in spanish.
i went to play him the show and he goes “oh you can put it in spanish :D” and then went on to say how cool that is. like it sounds dumb to be thanking a show for just having the option to have it dubbed in another language but it’s so hard to find them.
my dad has to jump through so many loop holes js to watch his favorite shows so it’s nice just to have that option so accessible
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yourgirlfoe · 1 year
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Asian parents will insult you in the most humiliating way possible and call you for dinner like nothing happened -
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wecandoit · 5 months
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went out and had the time of my life.
my parents are mad.
story of my life.
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organ-market · 6 months
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Born With No Tongue
A personal essay of a Viet "no sabo" kid on language.
Given white names, white language, we were forced to assimilate. 
I am a first generation Vietnamese child, who cannot speak Vietnamese.
I cannot blame my parents for not teaching me my native tongue. They were only doing what they thought would help me. They were helping me avoid the hurt, the ostracization that comes with not knowing English. They were scared for me. They spent years afraid in America, at the mercy of strangers who could not even understand a single word. 
I mourn for the years lost. I mourn for the language I was never taught. I mourn for the culture I will never truly be a part of. 
Sometimes I think about freshman year, a baby faced me ready to face the world of highschool. I wanted to reconnect to my culture, so I enrolled in a Vietnamese 1 class. It was terrible. Everyone else there was Vietnamese and already knew how to speak the language. They just wanted an easy A. The best score I got was a C.  One of the students even grew up in Vietnam— the teacher made him help grade papers. The teacher would ask me why I was having such a hard time, saying that white kids had done better than me. I used to cry every day in that class, to the point where no one needed to gossip about my insecurity. It was simply seen as fact.
It was soul crushing. 
That experience made me scared to ever attempt to learn again. It was a loss of innocence, a loss of my hope to grow closer to those so far away. 
There’s a jealousy deep within my bones. It eats away at my marrow, growing stronger as the days pass. From jealousy, anger grows. From anger, resentment grows. 
Why was it me? What did I do to deserve this? This mocking, this dissonance? I cannot even claim a name from where I belong. You look at me and you see “Asian”. But how can I be, if I can’t even grant you a hello? If I cannot even tell you the name of my favorite food, what am I? 
I am a mockery of my parents' hopes and dreams. 
- the petals of a blue violet.
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poet-by-the-lake · 10 months
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I’m normal.
Everyday I live through the consequences of being such a messy combination of my mother’s emotional instability and my father’s equally unstable anger. When will I stop seeing all the ways their worst traits continue to show up in me?
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cult-of-the-eye · 3 months
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One of my pet peeves is when white people who are born and brought up in a predominantly white country, brag about having parents who are like I dunno second fucking cousins from the queen cause like fuck you, you know? My parents didn't fight tooth and nail to build a whole life for themselves and their family in a country that low key didn't want them there and where they weren't fluent in the language for someone to compare that to fortunate birth circumstances. I don't have connections, I'm not a nepo baby, I have a responsibility to keep their legacy going. And I will. Because my parents are something to brag about.
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violet-primroses · 2 years
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Please note this is from an Indian who grew in America. Some of these things may not apply to you.
To multilingual parents,
I’m begging you, do not speak to your child in English/whatever the official language is in your country. They will learn that learn that language literally everywhere else. You are their best shot at learning their mother tongue.
My parents stopped speaking to me in Urdu when I was child. My Urdu is now so bad that I cannot call myself bilingual. It’s so bad that I feel ashamed whenever I have to speak it in front of someone who is fluent. It’s so bad that I could not speak my own grandmother because my Urdu simply wasn’t good enough and by the time her English was, we were just awkward relatives. I don’t even remember the last time I spoke to her.
You are your child’s only chance their mother tongue. They’re not going to be able to learn it elsewhere. The Spanish classes in America suck, and those language learning classes can only do so much. Speaking to your child in their mother tongue is the fastest, easiest, and best way to make sure your child has at least some connection to their mother tongue.
And it’s not just the benefits of being bilingual that this is about. It’s about making sure your child can communicate with their relatives. It’s about making sure they don’t lose their culture. And if your child can speak their mother tongue, your grandkids at least have a chance.
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muskaanayesha · 1 year
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I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I am a sponge that absorbs all the trauma of the household. Life is spilt milk and I am a kitchen cloth burnt at the edges. I am falling apart at the corners, threads coming away, rips and ripples like I am torn and trembling in an ocean of nothingness. I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I emphasize with everyone. The love of my life marries someone else, and I find myself hoping that he loves her the same. My brother wishes death upon me and I toss and turn in my sleep over the tears I saw in his eyes. Life is an accidental fire and I am water. I attempt to stop a tragedy I did not start, to go blindly into a catastrophe that I cannot halt. I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I am silent in my needs. My father asks me what I'd like to eat and I say that I am not hungry. I will chew on my guilt and swallow my pride before I even think of asking for anything. I buy myself a sweet and nothing tastes as bitter as it. Life is a metaphor for debt and I am drowning in the desire to be as insignificant as possible. I demand nothing and nothing demands me.
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killerolives · 8 months
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i dig my heels into the sockets of your eyes, climbing, using, clawing my way up, pushing you down into the past. i take and take, then hide my feet in shame, dried blood caked between my toes. i do not stand on shoulders, lofty and graceful, i crouch on beaten, tired bodies, afraid of toppling at any moment. i have not earned my place here. i do not belong here.
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l-alan-l · 1 month
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It’s literally impossible for immigrant parents to trust doctors they always think they want to rip them off
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ijzelen-ijzel · 17 days
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It’s called translating the Australian anthem to Dutch
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shanaspeare · 18 days
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There’s something about those droopy eyes filled with enough anguish to make an immigrant father who’s never known anything but struggle and hardship drop to his knees and cry.
When tears brim and coat your eyes, they sparkle like no other, and there’s no doubt that they carry enough water to flood the land and choke the Earth’s inhabitants to death.
Meet me upon the horizon, water boy destined to be the one who marks the end of the world.
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martiisor · 2 years
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did your parents eyes gloss over whenever you tried to talk about your interests or did you turn out normal
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wiltdr0s3s · 1 year
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Calloused
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i hope you enjoy!! this was written within the span of 30 mins in the middle of a depressive episode a few weeks ago.
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