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by Emily Yang

The little girl liked to draw.

She drew animals,

Plants,

Rainbows,

Idyllic pastoral scenes,

But most of all,

She liked to draw

Beautiful girls–

The girls that

She felt were

The best.

She pushed back her

Straight black hair,

And she squinted her

Slanted eyes

As she drew.

She drew what she thought

Was the most superior

Kind of girl,

Sometimes with pink frilly dresses,

But most importantly,

The beautiful girls had

Long

Blonde

Hair.

Sometimes the little girl

Got creative,

Felt like doing something different,

And would draw who she saw

Was the next best,

Beautiful girls with

Long

Brown

Hair.

Not once

Did she draw

Anyone she viewed as

Beautiful

With

Long

Black

Hair.

Not once

Did it occur to her

That anyone who

Looked

Like

Herself

Could be

Beautiful.

Not once

Did she come across

Any TV show,

Movie,

Book,

Or other story form

In which her people

Weren’t “Chinese people”

But rather just

“People.”

Not once

Did society ever

Affirm her as

A person,

As having value,

As being beautiful,

And she agreed

With this lack of affirmation,

As she continued to draw

Anyone but

Herself.

 

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