The Many Daughters of Afong Moy

by Jamie Ford

For most of her childhood Afong thought that she must have been a horrible man in her previous life to have been reborn a woman. She must have been cruel, to be reborn powerless. She must have been greedy to come back as property. She must have been shiftless, to have had her feet bound in this life.

“Your history is whatever I tell them. In America, a lie becomes the truth with sufficient repetition.

Loose gears fitting together because their mismatched edges have been momentarily worn down by grief.

“We don’t have to grieve only those we know. Sometimes we grieve for that which was lost, that which was never allowed to be.”

“It’s clear that you’re looking for something very important.” He paused. “Perhaps you are searching in the branches for what only appears in the roots.” Faye pondered this for a moment. “That’s not the Buddha, that’s Rumi.”

I found you And you fit me perfectly like a bullet in the barrel of a gun

Then there were outright scoundrels, men who seemed charming and generous and showered her with conditional affection.

pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

She felt misfortune with each passing minute, knowing that her disappointment would eventually step aside for its progeny of grief and acceptance.