When I Was Growing Up, a poem by Nellie Wong
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
Indian (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
when I was growing up. I know now it wants I long to be white. How you ask, Let me tell you, Davies. When I was growing up, people told me I was dark and I believed my own darkness in the mirror in my soul, my narrow vision. When I was growing up, my sisters with fair skin got praised for the beauty, and I fell further, crushed between high walls. When I was growing up, I read magazines and so movies, blown movie stars, white skin, sanctions slips and to be elevated to become a woman, a desirable woman. I began to wear imaginary pale skin. When I was growing up, I was proud of my English, my grammar, my spelling fitting into the group of smart Children. Smart Chinese Children setting him belonging, getting in line. When I was growing up and went to high school, I discovered the rich white girls, a few yellow girls. They're imported cotton dresses there, cashmere sweaters, they curly hair. And I thought that I do should have what these lucky girls had. When I was growing up, I hungered for American food. American style scooted. Why it and even to me a child born of Chinese parents. Being China's was feeling foreign. Who's limiting was American. When I was growing up and the white man wanted to take me out, I thought I was special and accepted gardenia anxious to fit the stereotype of Oriental. When I was growing up, I felt ashamed of some yellow men. There's small boots, the friel bodies, this spitting on the streets, the cuffing, the lying in sunless rooms, shooting themselves in the arms. When I was growing up, people would ask if I very Philip in pollination Portuguese. They named all Kyllo's six of white, the shell of my soul, but not my rough, dark skin. When I was growing up, I felt dirty. I thought that God made white people clean, and no matter how much I bet I could no change, I could not shed my skin in the great water. When I was growing up, I swore I would trying away to the Purple Mountains houses by the sea with nothing over my head, with space to breed un congested with yellow people in an area called Chinatown in an area I later no mosquito, one off the many hearts of Asian America. I know now that wouldn't say long to be white. How many more ways you ask having take told you enough.