On my last night in my home country, I suggested that we walk around after dinner. I was with my sister and my former manager who somehow became my adoptive father. His wife also became my adoptive mother in my country. On our walk, we spotted a typical live band. We decided to sit on…
Much is said about the diaspora, whether forced political displacements or voluntary transnational mobility. We come in varying forms as first- or second-generation, third-culture children or with mixed heritage. So, here you aretoo foreign for hometoo foreign for here. Never enough for both. Ijeoma Umebinyuo, Questions for Ada Being foreign for here is a very known consequence…
I just got home from my jazz and ballet classes. For a boyish girl who held a male-dominated job for a decade and who is more likely to take up martial arts as in the past, I sometimes ask myself: How did I end up here? There’s never a day when I don’t ask myself,…
Asia. A photo of an office. Purple sweater, ballet flats and stuffed tigers. Cookies in a jar. Forgotten Economist magazines in the lull of 1:01 pm. Maps taped on the wall, how wonderful and telling. How equally beautiful if not more, those old yellowed rolled-up maps. Were these inherited from the giants who stood before…
