The psych ward is more than a harsh, white, dehumanizing space in some psychological thriller. It is a place that stores life. And with life, beauty.
An Angel and a Keyboard
Nonfiction
Maatrbhaasha
To my family for showing me that love goes beyond the words we speak.
A Letter to Mom
A raw letter addressed to my mom: hurtful memories one part of me hopes she still remembers, imperfections still left uncovered, and everything I never said to her.
To Little Rapunzel
This piece describes the long journey of how I found acceptance and gained pride in my cultural identity through narration from my six-year-old self to now.
Remsen Ave.
All I want to say is that I’m forever grateful to Nana and Papa, may they rest in peace, for opening up their home to me and allowing me to hold many great memories.
Movie Theaters: The Experience of Moviegoing
This piece of work reflects on the history of movie theaters as well as what the experience of seeing a movie in theaters is.
Obodo m, My Country
This poem invites you on a journey into a piece of my identity and culture.
A Letter to My Grandparents
This letter was inspired by a prompt and written after I came back from visiting my grandparents in Japan last summer. It is a letter of eternal thanks and love.
A Necklace of Pearled Dreams
“A Necklace of Pearled Dreams” narrates the story of my grandmother’s beautiful pearled necklace, a cherished family heirloom, and how its meaning transformed and developed through generations.
A Foreshadowed Understanding
People often struggle with their genders growing up. Most grow out—or, rather—into their pre-established identities. I didn’t.
Sea Glass
In this piece, I tried to incorporate memories from my childhood with some of today’s environmental issues by comparing two alternate storylines– one of my memories growing up, and another displaying climate crises– over time.
Did You Find Out Something New Today?
Discovering some truths about history that are not in our history books.
Skinny Girl Memoir
Growing up surrounded by women of color, I always felt isolated by the fact that my body was different from those of the beautiful women around me. This poem was my moment of solidarity; my body is no one’s but my own and I don’t need anyone else’s approval.
She’s a 7.8
They were silent. I felt strong.
The House
“The House” is a narrative essay I wrote about family and growing closer to them.