My Four-Part Poem
Caprial Koe
I.
Here’s the thing, he approached me at a party
Piercing eyes like a shark
Pushing through the dark like he
Recognized a part of me or MAYBE
Noticing me as the easy duckling in the sea of blonde hair
The first three sentences took away all the air:
1. “You’re pretty for an Asian.”
Already internalizing “for an Asian”
2. “I’ve only had Asian girls before.”
He describes us like a food
3. “You know what you remind me of?”
Noting the use of what instead of who
Without a breath between the question and his answer
He says, “You look like the girl from a hentai I just watched”
He says, “Don’t take this the wrong way I promise she was pretty!”
Like that was my biggest concern at his remark
Until his lips poured pure horror in the space between us.
Abused, beaten, submissive and willing
She wanted it.
He says the best part was that she wanted it.
Wondering if that’s what he expects from me
Giving me another reason to despise my eyes and hair
Wondering why my feet aren’t letting me run away
I begin to curl in with my breath
The way he smiles like I should be flattered
The way he thinks my appearance makes me the perfect doll To be the manifestation of this misogynistic cartoon
The way I begin to realize this is ingrained in my history
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II.
As a child, I marveled at her trophy
A woman poised perfectly at the top of a golden globe
Now a sick reminder that white America looked at my grandmother The way that guy looked at me
Dehumanizing our bodies as sexual objects
Listings online sell her pictures
A picture of my grandmother getting dressed being sold for $45 Placing a value on her body for the millionth time
Treating her body like it’s theirs for the billionth time
These pictures now public property
Our bodies their public property
I remember all of her acting roles
Villainous nurse, concubine, exotic beauty, etc.
Take-out boxed Asian gender roles
Littering her career
Holding the strings to
Puppeteer the way her granddaughters would be seen for years to come
She taught us:
Shoulders back
Stand up straight
Don’t speak unless spoken to
Lessons that Chinese women learn early in their lives That become vices when others
Seek to wrap their hands around our necks
Squeezing so our souls will crumble
Leaving our bodies to be used just as they see us
Vessels for them to fill with their sadistic stereotypes
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III.
He pulls up his shirt and asks me to read his tattoo This is not the first time this has happened
There it is scribbled along his ribcage
The language of my ancestors permanently inked on his skin
The calligraphy we value as art
Another oriental trophy to show off
But before I try to laugh it off I stop
My breath hitches
As my eyes trace
The only character I recognize
Gou
My Chinese last name
The words of my grandmother haunting me
Gou for high esteem
Zou Lan are you listening?! Caprial don’t forget,
Your name means respect!
Yet there it is inked on his white skin
Taunting me as I attempt to leave this conversation
He says it makes him feel unique
Close your eyes… Shake it off…
Paint on a tight-lipped smile and walk away
Don’t say anything
Shoulders back
Stand up straight, Gou Zou Lan
I realize now that in this country my name could never mean respect.
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IV.
When the breath of my very ancestors fill my lungs and
Tell me I am strong
Tell me of what it took so that I could live
May I answer their call in reverence to the pain they endured so I could breathe this air
When the breath of my very ancestors blows the hair from my face
To stop me from hiding
To stop me from shame
May I answer their call with pride in the features they bestowed upon me
When the breath of my very ancestors catch my tears when all else feels lost To reassure me it’s okay
To reassure me they are there
May I answer their call no matter how small my cry to acknowledge their hands present on my shoulders
When the breath of my very ancestors leave me
To bring me home to them
To bring me to those who made my life possible
May I join their call to our loved ones as we instill them with the hope that runs through our veins