A Month Cannot Contain All We Are
On celebrating AANHPIHM, mothers, and books, anyway
Last May, I highlighted various AANHPI friends and creatives all month long, in an effort to honor, celebrate, uplift, educate, and give courage to our diverse community. Of course, as diverse as the offering was, it was only a snippet. Asian Americans, Native Hawaiians, and Pacific Islanders make up one of the most diverse racial groups in the nation. As is, the name has changed and it’s not perfect. Some of my dear friends prefer APIDA (Asian, Pacific Islander, Desi American) instead. It’s important to me to have a name we can all recognize, lest the confusion drowns us all out, however, I love learning about and hearing about how names and descriptors can change to include others in a more honoring way. My friend and fellow writer, Rachel, wrote about her perspective as a South Asian/Desi American woman, here. If you aren’t following her, do yourself a favor and subscribe.
If you are AANHPI or APIDA, what acronym do you prefer to use and why? Would you take a minute to comment and share so that we can all grow our understanding a bit more?
If you missed it last year, or if you’d like to go back and re-read, feel free to explore the series. It’s wonderfully Yellow. Make sure to follow and support the AANHPI creatives you read about when you do; that’s a great way to celebrate us and honor our heritage this month!
Yesterday, I (re)shared this after thinking I didn’t have anything to share or give for this month of ours, (at least online). A friend shared this writing I posted from a few years ago for AANHPI month, and it encouraged me to see how deeply it still resonates. So here it is for anyone who missed it.
Below is a poem I wrote about aging as the daughter of an immigrant and an Asian American with an aging Asian American mom. And since it’s AANHPI month, mental health awareness month, and almost Mother’s Day, it seemed like the right poem to share.
Please Leave a Few Persimmons for Me
by Tasha Jun
You say it’s because of your ancestors,
not tactile hallucinations, or
a sterile diagnosis. It’s because
of all the things you saw
in those dirt bunkers of stench and uniforms
Things these young American doctors and
your American daughter
can’t fathom-don’t understand
All these years later something
in your mind has begun to rewind
and you remember
Your father, a shadow without a face,
crouched down, his body eclipsed
by gunfire and hunger
Your mother, cutting the flesh of
a burnt orange persimmon while
the leaves curled outside
Knife in one hand, love in the other,
a wisp of a November memory
miracle that survived a diaspora
Ghosts now live in your mouth
where she once filled it.
You slice the cadmium-colored sun in half
to find a star-once-seed –
a resurrection sermon. Koreans say,
“We should always leave
a few persimmons on the trees for the magpies”
The bittersweet bites of fruit
received, pieces of hope like little anchors
sinking into my sadness
I swallow them. I ask Jesus
to leave a few memories like persimmons
on the trees for my mom and me.
On Celebrating Anyway (it’s a book birthday!)
In exactly one week, Tell Me The Dream Again will be two years old. I can’t believe it’s been two years. Just today, someone messaged me to say they “finally ordered (their words)” TMTDA after wanting to for the last couple of years since learning about it. The book has sold slowly. It’s hard to not feel discouraged about that at times, especially in a world that measures your success in numbers, values all things fast-paced, and even more especially so when we have a current administration that’s aggressively trying to destroy every DEI initiative, while also suppressing the history of people of color in our nation altogether. It’s hard not to be discouraged and want to completely give up.
However, despite that, I can’t ignore message after deep and meaningful message I’ve gotten from readers who’ve been impacted by TMTDA since its release almost two years ago. I treasure every single one of them and because of these known readers and others I haven’t met yet, I won’t stop telling stories or encouraging and inviting others to do the same. I can’t label TMTDA as a “bestseller,” but I know, that I know, that I know, it is good work and art, it matters, and it has companioned many who have needed it’s words and stories to help liberate their own. I believe it will continue to do that. Am I disappointed that it’s not more widely championed in faith circles? Yes, three hundred percent, because its message matters for the American Church and beyond. However, I can’t control how spaces and people receive it or choose to support and celebrate it or not, so I will celebrate anyway. I’m so grateful for those who have championed this book, continue to, and those who have done that while also allowing it to companion them towards embracing their own stories and learning to share them with courage. This is success. This is shalom at work. This is Yellow protesting with joy.
In Publisher’s Weekly’s starred review of Tell Me The Dream Again, they said, “This mesmerizes.” A friend and reader called Tell Me The Dream Again, “a love letter to her mom.” So if you want to be mesmerized, or you’re looking for another way to honor and celebrate AANHPI month + Mother’s Day, maybe it’s time to buy a copy or two, or ten.
A Breath Prayer for AANHPI image bearers
Inhale: The imago Dei lives in every layer of me
Exhale: May I celebrate all of the Asianness within
Grateful, shalomsick, and in celebration of us,
Tell Me That Dream Again is such a great book. So grateful for your words.
The poem, Please Leave a Few Persimmons for Me, was truly beautiful.