How to leave a home Audrey Silalahi
This one time, someone that I considered a friend, someone who was tall, blonde, pretty, white, Someone who once told me that she wanted to visit Bali, had asked me, “So, wait, what passport do you have again? Like a European one or something?” I had ordered Indonesian food for us to share only a couple weeks prior. A month before that, I had written a piece about the complexities of my Indonesian, Asian, and Asian American identity and she had shared it on her Instagram, adding two heart emojis. Indonesian. Asian. Asian American. I thought, “Does this mean nothing?” Grandpa, born four years after the Japanese colony left Indonesia went to college to become a doctor but is not a doctor. Grandpa, who never yells or raises his voice, would always come rushing to my room when he would hear that I was crying. Grandpa, who doesn’t know how to rest is always told to stay home, get some rest, you’re not young anymore, it’s okay if you’re not working. But he’s always out, keeping himself busy, doing some work
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