I was never Filipino to them, just someone who belonged to everyone else.

and you’re crying in them. you were always crying back then, but you don’t remember anymore

Every crime goes unpunished under the watchful eye of empire. How else do you think revolutions are born?

I want you to be like me. I want you to have reasons to live.

Perhaps the greatest hold Valmidiano has on the reader is through collective memory and experience.

Gharib shares her honest experiences of being caught between her Filipino and Egyptian identities

or his throat, or his lungs, or his song, his body now gills all over, now there, all the way over there beyond this

the spaghetti tastes jollier when it costs a six-and-a-half hour drive to jacksonville, florida, the closest home of jolly spaghetti

Garner is a biracial Filipina-Canadian living in the Greater Toronto area.

there's a layer of dust on my crocodile skin i've been in southern california so long the hawk cuts an arc in the sky and agrees

We watch the house wrap itself around her. Light and heat return to the earth.

Claustrophobia comes at me in moments between dusk and nightfall.

We look up at the sky and see blue; uninterrupted and no one tells us we need to step out of the sun our skin a cloudless glow, we stretch

I haven’t figured out what good parenting looks like maybe a dollar to not skip class two

When asked why I still have faith after all these years, I wonder how could you not?

conjuring the Sahara in our orange hallways & together trekking across those impossible sands.

Khalisa Rae’s Ghost in a Black Girl’s Throat takes an unflinching look at the racist legacy.

It has been three seasons since I last saw you, she hums. I was beginning to forget your face.

I’m running out of options. because I like the impossible sound of a typing speed that isn’t going anywhere.

homebody | cocoon | 2020 atrophied some of my hard won progress | change that officially by calling | 2021 the year of