When you say you do You don’t know where I have been Judge me by my skin When you speak to me You don’t know what I can see Judge me by my eyes All of these problems All of these outer demons All of these are you You single me out Is it me…
I never liked the peculiar smell of the onions she would put, but as I bit into the sandwich, I realized that the marinated onions in my mom’s sandwich did not smell. How can onions not smell?
Who knew that there was so much to know about culture?
Culture that is so deeply rooted within its own community,
It aspires me to write about my own life adventure.
I write what it is to be Hmong, what it is to be me.
Can you guess where at UCLA we are talking about?
by Sofia Campos | Contributor Note: Printed version had a couple of grammatical errors. We apologize for not catching it.