Writing

I took her withering hand in mine, the same hands that raised me up, the same hands that taught me how to read the Bible, the same hands that fed me purple yams, and I sighed. Because as a musician, I’ve been trained to hear what is both in sound and silence. Because as an actor, I’ve been taught to read between the lines. Because as a mixed child, I hold a distinct universe of two cultures, and yet, neither of them at the same time. Because as a Vietnamese girl who didn’t speak the language, I learned to navigate meaning in the space between understanding.

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article by Anh-Mai Kearney Zubia for the Asian American Christian Collaborative