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All of our parents had accents, and some of us did, too, but none of us could hear them. When I was a teenager, the headlines read San Jose Becomes Majority Minority City. If you’re growing up in it, majority minority seems like a nonsensical term, a paradoxical way of saying, “This is not how you are supposed to exist.” But exist we did.
What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma
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