Float/sink

float/sink

how do you tell people you are incredibly sad when you’re not sure where all this sadness came from? heavy weight in my chest, like being strangled, softly, slowly. i look inside my mind and it is blank but there is a tangled mess of scribbled lines. shattered glass. be a better student, be sociable. don’t make mistakes. if you think someone else is wrong, that’s the first mistake you made. stop blaming other people. you are always in the wrong. when everyone expects you to be okay but you are stuck in limbo, knowing there is everything to do but no energy to do. what does progress feel like? i take two steps forward but i always seem to find myself back at square one. linear regression is infinite: a vortex and i keep spiralling down and down and down, no end in sight. how to be a person when i barely am? it feels like quicksand, quicksand, i am screaming with no voice, i open my mouth and sand rushes in, trap the words in my throat. and then nothing at all.

completely unedited. stream of consciousness? i don’t know i’m really just feeling absolutely terrible and i can’t pinpoint where all this sadness is coming from.

when i came out as trans

[ or, toxic masculinity from the perspective of a trans guy ]

when i came out as trans my warm and loving family supported me

but they treated me differently

when i came out as trans my dad asked if he should start slapping me on the back and socking me in the arm instead of hugging me.

when i came out as trans my mom wanted to know if i would still got with her on fun trips to the mall to buy clothes and home decor items.

when i came out as trans my grandfather looked positively startled and overjoyed when i kissed his cheek and told him to drive safe.

when i came out as trans my grandmother asked if it was okay if she hugged me in public or if it would embarrass me.

when i came out as trans my dad told me that he had a lot to teach me— he said this because i told him i thought make up was fun.

when i came out as trans my aunt apologized for kissing me on the forehead.

when i came out as trans my uncle gave me a handshake rather than a hug.

when i came out as trans my cousins hesitated to hug me at the door.

when i came out as trans my family hesitated to show me the casual affection and platonic love they had previously felt free to give.

end toxic masculinity.

show your sons as much affection as you would show your daughters.

let your sons indulge in beauty when they want to and always support them.

do not think for one second that the societal expectation of masculinity is more important than the individual feelings and needs of someone you love.

Husband One looks to me for confirmation, no doubt skeptical of the party line. These days, only fools speak freely among strangers. I nod yes, but do not elaborate. What do I care about the dilution of our blood and the increasing complexity of our society when my most basic need for a wife and child is not met?

An Excess Male by Maggie Shen King. Harper Voyager. 2017. 

A dystopian novel depicting the consequences of China’s infamous One Child Policy and traditional preference for male heirs, An Excess Male is the poignant, deceptively matter-of-fact debut novel of Taiwan-born author and current San Francisco Bay Area resident Maggie Shen King. 

Over 40 million eligible bachelors find themselves without wives and abilities to pass down family names to children, one of the most crucial parts of patriarchal marriage customs, leading to the creation of Advanced Families with a hierarchy of multiple husbands for one woman. Wei-guo meets May-ling, aspiring to be her Husband Three after establishing a mutual rapport and comfort he had never felt with anyone else. The complex intersections between politics and love, state and family, and patriotism and belief climax as Wei-guo faces challenges, rebellion, and the quaking boldness of personal resolve. 

Follow sinθ magazine for more daily posts about Sino arts and culture.

(via sinethetamagazine)

eighteen

is the taste of asphalt and blood, school skirts tucked a little too high above the knees, and we keep running, keep our heads tilted towards skylight; film reel of blurry faces and dreamscapes that pass by too quickly, but i still remember what your hands feel like, soft, we are soft — but not broken yet; tell me, will playgrounds ever feel magical again? hour-long bus rides in the rain, golden-hour glow spilling across our faces, our tiredness; paper memories that will soon gather dust, you a roseate memory i shelter in between the creases; paths never crossing again, empty late-night trains heading home, ghosts feeding on nostalgia, someday we will return —

inspired by @dhritspoetry ♡

“Eating Chinese: culture on the menu in small town Canada”. written by Lily Cho

Chinese restaurants in small town Canada are at once everywhere - you would be hard pressed to find a town without a Chinese restaurant - and yet they are conspicuously absent in critical discussions of Chinese diasporic culture or even in popular writing about Chinese food. In Eating Chinese, Lily Cho examines Chinese restaurants as spaces that define, for those both inside and outside the community, what it means to be Chinese and what it means to be Chinese-Canadian. Despite restrictions on immigration and explicitly racist legislation at national and provincial levels, Chinese immigrants have long dominated the restaurant industry in Canada. While isolated by racism, Chinese communities in Canada were still strongly connected to their non-Chinese neighbours through the food that they prepared and served. Cho looks at this surprisingly ubiquitous feature of small-town Canada through menus, literature, art, and music. An innovative approach to the study of diaspora, Eating Chinese brings to light the cultural spaces crafted by restaurateurs, diners, cooks, servers, and artists.

Follow sinθ magazine for more daily posts about Sino arts and culture.

我对你的迷恋穿梭在这广袤的夜空， 你的梦如轻纱，缓缓掠过我满布皱纹的额头。体温隔着房间相互交融，你在均匀地呼吸， 我在寂静中劳作。爱人，这就是幸福。To your infatuation, I travel to and fro in this boundless night sky, your dreams a light muslin cloth that slowly sweeps past my wrinkled forehead. Separated by a room, our body temperatures melt together, you rhythmically breathing, I quietly working. My love, this is happiness.

Yu Dafu (郁达夫), “Loved One, My Insomnia Gives You Tears”  (爱人，我的失眠让你落泪)

Short story writer and poet Yu Dafu was one of the key figures in modern Chinese literature. Initially beginning higher education at Hangchow University, Yu was expelled after participating in a student strike. In 1913, he moved to Japan to study economics at Tokyo Imperial University, where he, along with several other Chinese intellectuals, founded the Creation Society (创造社) aimed towards promoting vernacular literature that emphasized freedom of form, artistic expression, and individuality. The society’s literary magazine, 创造, was one of the first publications to adopt left-right horizontal printing, breaking away from the right-left vertical printing of traditional texts. 

(via sinethetamagazine)