Finally Seen

by Kelly Yang

“That’s not the point… I’m your mama,” Mom says. She gently bumps her shoulder into mine. “You know what that means?” Her eyes twinkle. I shake my head. “It means we should always be able to talk. Not just about the highlights, but about the things that make your stomach squeeze tight.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mom says. “For not being a better mother, for not being a better daughter, for missing Lao Ye’s funeral… all of it. But I was trying. You have to believe me.” I reach for her hands and give her an important spelling lesson under the velvet sky. “I used to feel guilty too,” I tell Mom. “But then I learned that guilt is spelled with an i. And that I is just as important.”

At school on Monday, I get a hero’s welcome. I spot at least five kids carrying around Flea Shop. They must have bought it at the bookstore in town. That’s the thing about banning books—it only makes kids more curious.

FReadom “Does anyone know what this means?” she asks, underlining the word Read in FReadom. “Does it have to do with freedom?” Bobby guesses. “It certainly does.” “But, Mrs. Carter, that’s misspelled!” Eleanor says, raising her hand. Mrs. Carter chuckles and tells us with a wink, “Sometimes we can bend spelling rules to make new words. That’s what’s great about this country—it’s constantly a work in progress. You know what that means?” she asks us. We shake our heads. “It means we have the capacity to reflect. And adapt. And that our freedom is only as strong as our people. If we care about our right to read, we have to actively protect it. You’ve seen how easily books can get challenged. But you’ve also seen what happens when you speak up.” Mrs. Carter smiles. “I want to thank every single person who showed up at the school board meeting on Saturday, most of all Lina.”

“Hey…,” Dad says, reaching for my hand. “Let me tell you a story.” I look over. “When I first came here, a graduate student in my biology department told me that the American dream is like a crop. You get out of it what you put in. But once in a while, a drought comes along, and there’s nothing you can do.” I gaze up at the cloudless sky, a thousand sparkling stars sprinkled like confetti across the silk canvas. Dad holds up a finger. “But the fact that you were able to turn the tide at your school… that gives me hope.” I let out a small smile as Dad gets off the freeway. “The fact that you are able to read what you want, say what you want, and imagine a better future… that’s why we keep going. That’s what makes it all worth it.” Dad pats my hand. “I know you’re worried, sunflower. But we’ll get that green card. Maybe not today… maybe not tomorrow, but one day. And when we do, we’ll look back on all this, and it’ll just be a brief drought.”

There’s a knock at the door. Mom opens it. It’s Mr. Beezley, coming to collect his rent. Before he can utter a single word, Mom hands him the back rent check. The expression on his face as he looks down and sees the full amount is priceless. Never in a million pandemics did he think we could pull it off! “What’d you do, rob a bank or something?” he asks. “Oh no. I just start a company, created a killer product line, entered into joint venture, and market it like fire on Etsy. What did you do these last six weeks?” Mom answers, giving him some serious side-eye. That shuts Mr. Beezley up.

“Thank you for teaching her,” Mom says. “She’s so lucky to have you.” “The pleasure’s all ours,” Mrs. Ortiz says. “Have you seen her graphic novel?” “I have!” Mom says proudly, stroking my hair with her hand. “It’s like opening a window into her heart.” My chin trembles slightly as I turn to Mom. All I’ve ever wanted is to have a direct path to her heart. And now I’ve got one. I reach out my arms and hug her. “Love you,” I whisper, right then and there, even though in all the American movies I’ve watched, no one has ever said I love you at an open house. But I don’t care. I’m living my own American movie, I decide.

I gaze up at the stars. I’m so happy, I could do a Hair Ferris Wheel with my hands. Instead, I thank the book gods with all my heart. I can’t wait to see Catherine in person. I’ll finally be able to ask her all the questions I’ve been whispering to her book at night. Was it scary writing Flea Shop? Did her heart pitter-patter the way mine did when I first showed Finn my graphic novel? Does she still have that antique peanut butter letter opener? Most of all, I want to thank her, for making me feel seen. It is the most powerful feeling in the world.

We don’t know what the future will bring, what crops or droughts await our next chapter, but we kick our legs as high as we can, our hearts brimming with hope, under the glowing moon.

Over time, I started to internalize that difference as something wrong. Something shameful. Something I ought to never tell anybody else about. So I kept my life a secret. I told myself I could never have a play date, or even a single birthday party, because then my classmates would find out! That’s how obsessed I was with keeping my life a secret. That’s the price of never seeing yourself represented on the page.

I can’t describe the avalanche of emotions I felt that day. My heart broke for all the students in the class, who weren’t allowed to finish the chapter they were on. I ached for young me, who wondered for decades whether her immigrant life was worthy of telling a single friend. I cried for all the progress we’ve made bringing more representation in books, progress that can easily be rolled up like a carpet if we don’t actively safeguard access to books. So I took to social media and I used my voice. I’ve been speaking out ever since. I am proud to support the freedom to read, far and wide, as loud as I can, to speak out against book banning, whenever and wherever it happens. My greatest hope in writing this book is to show just how essential books are as sliding doors and mirrors. Because children need and deserve to see themselves represented in books. Because no child should have to carry the same crushing weight of wondering if their life is “normal” that I did as a kid. Because our future depends on it.

Most of all, thank you to all the teachers and librarians who give me hope for the future: keep shining, keep inspiring, and keep making a difference in so many young people’s lives! This book’s for you!