Tyle says, “So, where are you from?” “Bay Area, California.” “No. Where are you from? Originally”. I have always hated this question and resent him for asking. I hide my distaste because it is un-American. Perhaps I will lie. I often do when someone corners me. Sometimes, my prepared invention slips out before I realize it: I’m Japanese—Korean—Chinese—mixed—race Asian. No, sir, can’t speak any language but good old American English. This time, I turn the question: “Where do you think?” “Korea.” Something about him makes me dance around the truth. I chuckle, painfully aware that “I’m an
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