A Generation of PoetsI WAS CRYING in the corner of my new kitchen when my mom called. "Hi Umma," I say in the brightest voice I could muster, tightening my vocal chords to curb them from shaking.
When I Found Out We Were WhiteI HAD THE STORY all wrong. I used to say it as a point of pride: "I'm of African American descent from the South." In reality, I am a Filipino American from Seattle.
Awoken From the Asian American DreamLOWELL HIGH SCHOOL in San Francisco is an academic magnet school that attracts the best students in the city. From the class of 1980, my classmates included a Nobel Prize winner, a Pulitzer Prize winner, and an internationally best-selling author.
Brand AmericanaI WAS DISMAYED when my parents first told me that we'd be leaving our brownstone home in London for a small, two-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles. I was a Kenyan girl with a British accent.
Digging for Roots“GOD IS GOOD” Charles spoke softly, as Baldwin stood there watching his 76-year-old father's eyes fill with tears. "God is good." Charles held in his hands a Bible that was owned by his father — Baldwin's grandfather — a man who had left his family in China to work in America.
Home is Where the Hospitality IsWE USED TO own a house. Not an apartment, not a condo, but a three-bedroom, three-bathroom home in the Bay Area with a beautiful, spacious yard.
