In the white eyes,
we are all Chinese.
You are Vietnamese?
You are Korean?
You are Filipino?
No, they can’t tell.
And they don’t bother to ask.
“You guys all look the same.”
I was confused,
a guy said “xie xie” to me.
I was frustrated,
the white girl rolled her eyes,
“that Chinese girl” she whispered,
leaving me dumbfounded.
I was disheartened,
liberal or conservative,
Republican or Democrat,
“Discuss the debate of the Democratic senators”
Were everything that my professor mentioned.
“What is your opinion?” he said.
“I can’t even vote.”
It is burning inside me.
My heart is drumming,
my vein is throbbing,
my skin is red.
I have a name.
It’s not “the Chinese girl.”
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