i am nothing like my mother the first truth i knew well because her olive black hair was thick and silky and smelled vanilla sweet and softly bounced upon her shoulders in one gentle sweep and i always recognized it from the back when searching for her in a crowd and it was easy because it was not mine mine is cherry-tinted, spider-web fine smells only of today’s shampoo cuts off right above my ears weightless and freeing and divine “i am nothing like my mother” i said whenever someone told me i looked like her because it was my father’s smile on my face and his name i bore with mine i said i had his sense of humor his sense of adventure his anger his courage never her dullness or her smallness her cowardice or her ignorance this was all she was to me and i was nothing like her i am nothing like my mother is what i knew when she spent hours obsessing over her appearance and her possessions when she held in any breath that carried passion when she dreamt eerie dreams that made no sense when she became not a person but a ghost in the house when she said she knew me and i replied “you don’t know me— i am nothing like you” “i am nothing like my mother” an echo sounding through the generations as untrue as in the last she says it, too, my mother in her mother’s voice tossing back her mother’s hair rolling her mother’s eyes because our mothers were too perfect too unmaternal too unknowing too unreal yes, i am nothing like my mother and yet we grew up sharing music and movies and books and art because i wanted to love all the things she loved and her jewelry i scorned now dons my neck and wrists and although she always hated my laugh and i her sense of humor our jokes come now as a duet so tell me how could i be nothing like my mother when she raised me with her hardness and her softness her earthy strength and her cracks her dreams and her nightmares her creation and her destruction her memories and her fantasies her unconditional love no matter how much i tried to forget the parts of her in me i couldn’t and although the both of us have left behind everything we ever knew over and over again we have never left behind the other or our foremothers and now i know i am everything like my mother Cover Photo Source: Dhaka Tribune

Dear Asian Youth, I am in a Whole Foods on my sixteenth birthday. I think it’s funny to peruse the aisles as if I am an upper middle class white woman with enough money to spend on overpriced soaps and luxury candles. I have never been in one with the intention to buy something until this point of my life. The air of a Whole Foods feels so...different. It’s like stepping into a polished log cabin trying its hardest to be homey despite its overwhelmingly manufactured feel. It’s the epitome of modern, gentrified suburbia. There are reusable everythings lining the aisles. Reusable bags, storage bins, utensils. As I spot some beeswax food wraps, my mind drifts to the fabric sandwich wrap my mother made in kindergarten, still in use to this day. While browsing numerous lunch containers, I recall my parents’ distaste at using multiple takeaway boxes, how they had washed away rice grains and vegetable crumbs from a plastic food bowl formerly used for poké, proclaiming that it would be put to use as tupperware in the near future. I find myself smiling at a pack of metal straws, recalling my mother’s scolding criticism: “How hard is it for you to just use your mouth? It’s already made for drinking, you don’t need any tools to go help with it.” I exit the Whole Foods with three frog-shaped cookies from the bakery and some ideas to contemplate. This entire discussion about being environmentally savvy felt terribly refined- just as refined as Whole Foods. There was a clean aesthetic to it, all Mason jars and vegan diets. Saving the earth has turned trendy, with nature-themed slogans plastered onto T-shirts you can buy at your local Target or Forever 21. The irony astounds me. What baffles me even more is the exclusion of POC voices. After all, the climate crisis is a global affair. It shouldn’t be solely centric on a specific group of people. In fact, those that it hurts the most are third-world countries with POC populations: Yemen, Haiti, the Philippines, etc. Where are the keynote speakers from those countries? It was as if they didn’t exist. I remembered the experience of Vanessa Nakate, a Ugandan activist who was cut out of a picture that prominently featured white figures in an article by Associated Press back in January (2020). In the act, they had cut her out of the conversation surrounding environmental activism. And what about those immigrant parents, who, like mine, aimed to reuse almost everything that entered their lives? Why weren’t their junk-drawers filled with unused takeout utensils praised, or their innate ability to clean out old food containers? What about the Indigenous populations of the United States and beyond who had essentially adopted the only sustainable lifestyle possible? Why aren’t they the faces of going green? The onset of colonial greed came with environmental destruction and in tandem, that fundamentally sustainable practice of living off of only what you needed. Deep down, I knew why. The practices weren’t pretty enough to be mommy-blog material. A large population of POC live on the breadline, and living on the breadline often means living in a food desert. Access to organic, fresh food is extremely limited in those communities. Whole Foods only crop up in pretty, neat areas with folks affluent enough to actually afford their products. This indicates a greater issue to me. There are so many issues that intersect with one another, so many that I see a lot of the world’s problems as intertwined in a massive web rather than distinctly separate. If you care about human rights, you likely care about wealth inequality, which is entangled with race and socioeconomics, so on and so forth. There are dire ramifications to promoting white activists as the faces for certain movements. It completely undermines the voices and experiences of the folks who are equally (if not more so) affected by a major problem. Speaking on a sphere restricted to the teenage bubble, it’s hard to talk about activism on social media, especially concerning race. The idea of revolution seems so enticing to white teens. People produce cute little stickers surrounded by flowers that portray activist phrases in calligraphy fonts, speak over voices of color and undermine their experiences in favor of creating content that glorifies revolts, and they love taking beliefs to wild extremes (a prime example: cancel culture). It seems to me that there must be a diversity of voices surrounding every movement: feminism, LGBTQ+ rights, neurodivergent rights, climate change. There is an insane amount of intersectionality that goes overlooked, and to develop one undoubtedly correct solution is to undermine how multi-faceted a topic is. White feminism, for example, is a subject I have seen getting a large amount of attention. Ignoring the intersectionality of feminism is to pick and choose the parameters for who gets rights and who doesn’t. After all, there are unique differences surrounding a woman of color’s experiences versus a white woman’s experiences. That point isn't to invalidate any of the struggles either party goes through, just to indicate that there are varying degrees and different types of oppression. The climate crisis, like many other activist movements, has often been reduced to an aesthetic. I feel as if that lessens its impact significantly. White leaders of activism serve to make movements more palatable to the general public. That isn’t to say allyship and support from the white community is unnecessary, just that those who are symbols of a certain movement shouldn’t be the folks who are impacted the least. There should be room for diversity to show the true scope of an issue’s impact. Unfortunately, many POC are not offered significant opportunity because of the circumstances they are raised in. Truly, only those who are privileged and conventional enough to be comfortable can bring forth reform in the political sphere because those who do experience the greater brunt of issues can’t work their way out of it. Going back to climate change, that’s why today’s modern understanding of “going green” is so toxic- it’s a mentality that caters to the upper middle class, calling those trapped by circumstance ignorant or actively unsustainable. Communities of color are more likely to live near toxic sites, more likely to breathe in polluted air, and more likely to live near coal plants. They are the victims of climate change, and yet, they are blamed for being part of the problem because they don’t have the shiny supermarkets and aesthetically-pleasing shopping bags readily available. The more I scrutinize this vicious cycle, the more I realize that the mentality of reusing and repurposing within immigrant communities is born of poverty. In truth, these issues need to be represented on a global, political scale. They aren’t astutely refined in the same way a Whole Foods is- there is an insane amount of complexity that should be properly dissected by a diverse array of people. - Billy Cover Photo Source: AP Images

Dear Asian Youth, When we think back to the moments when humanity made great leaps forward, they are often preceded by a period of darkness. Over the centuries, we have made many different metaphors to this idea in old adages such as “diamonds are made under pressure” or “a phoenix rises from the ashes.” Oftentimes, it is when humanity faces its darkest moments that we also make the most progress. When we implement and create change. When enough people get fed up, and say “enough is enough.” 2020 is one of these years. From the terrifying and deeply divided political environment, months of civil unrest, or a global pandemic that has affected the world in ways unseen, this year has been a year unlike many. Almost everyone's lives have been affected one way or another. While many of us search for a silver lining, or some reason for the series of events that occurred this year, many will say we had it coming. Many of the events that occurred this year have been predicted to occur or foreseen for a long while. Yet under very unique circumstances, 2020 managed to bring it all to the forefront of our attention. There was a Tiktok that was trending a few months back that discussed the number of seemingly historic events that happened this year. From wildfires that burned millions of acres of land in Australia, to the deeply partisan impeachment of Donald Trump. From the Black Lives Matter protest that swept the nation in response to videos of police brutality, to the Covid-19 pandemic that brought our country to its knees. Many will say that the tumultuous events of this year came as a surprise. Quite honestly, no one could have guessed as we all celebrated the New Years Eve in 2019, that the world would be where we are now; however, we can’t deny that there were signs. In a fiery speech back in October, former President Obama said, “We literally left this White House a Pandemic Playbook.That would have shown them how to respond before the virus reached our shores. They probably used it to, I don't know, prop up a wobbly table somewhere” (MSNBC). This pandemic playbook was officially published and released in December 2016, with the opening pages stating, “Infectious disease outbreaks threaten global health, economic vitality, and U.S. national security. Infectious disease emergencies prompting U.S. and international response efforts have involved previously unknown pathogens, such as Middle East Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus and Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus, as well as known pathogens causing outbreaks of unprecedented magnitude, such as Zika virus and Ebola virus… A convergence of factors including globalized travel and trade, climate change, urbanization, and agricultural practices contributes to infectious disease outbreaks of humans, animals, and plants” (White House Archives). Even back in 2016 there were predictions that infectious diseases and viruses were a major threat to our nation and the world. Several leading scientists left pages of instructions as well as warnings to future administrations on how to build an effective response to an infectious disease such as Covid-19 that has now claimed hundreds of thousands of lives in the U.S. After the government shutdowns that led to a major economic crisis and a recession, a deeply divided congress stuttered to a halt in delivering any aid to the American people, let alone providing effective guidance for states to get the virus under control. Deeply divisive partisan politics has gotten worse over the years, but there can be no denial that there weren’t also signs back in 2016 when Senate Majority Leader Mitch Mcconnell refused to confirm Merrick Garland to the Supreme court. Even as we look to Obama's last 4 years in office as partisan politics led to government shutdowns, and an increasing conservative block that refused to pass any legislation written by the democratic party. Michelle Obama, the former first lady, released her book Becoming back in 2018 along with a Netflix documentary of the same name earlier this year. In the middle of the documentary, she is recording stating, “When Barack was first elected, various commentators had naively declared that our country was entering a, ‘post racial era,’ in which skin color would no longer matter. Many were overlooking the racism, and tribalism that were tearing our nation apart.” Several scenes later she also says, “I understand the people who voted for Trump. The people who didn’t vote at all: the young people, the women, and that's when you think, “Man, people think this is a game.” And it wasn’t in this election but every midterm. Every time Barack didn’t get the congress he needed, that was because our folks didn’t show up.” This naivety, and the issues with lack of voter turnout as well as the rise of Trumpism, was never not predicted, except that so many people turned a blind eye to the true state of our nation. When we think back to the past decade, we see little signs. Many of us think back to March of this year as the rise of Black Lives Matter. For some, Black Lives Matter was something we never heard about, cared about, or gave much attention. Many POC and white people were blindsided by the protest this year, and all of us had hard conversations with family, and had to reconsider friendships over the matter. Yet some were shocked to learn that Black Lives Matter has existed since 2013, following several murders of black people by white supremacists and police. Colin Kaepernick famously kneeled during the national anthem in protest back in 2016, and yet more sports fans were caught up in the fact that they felt he “disrespected the flag” over the issues of systemic racism, and police brutality in our country. I’ll be honest and say that 2020 was no accident, and that a lot of the horrible things that happened this year are a direct result of decades of bad policy decisions, major mistakes by leaders, and a general lack of awareness to the state of our nation that brought this country to this low point. The circumstances that set the stage for 2020 existed long before this year, and will remain long after until we manage to address the issues at hand. The fact we were lulled into a false sense of security in 2016 when many of us believed that Donald Trump wouldn't be elected into office. When we were lulled into the false notion that America has reached a “post-racial age” with the election of Obama in 2008. The fact that we continued to ignore police brutality and made it an argument over “patriotism” and “respecting the flag” rather than human rights and state sanctioned murder. We let ourselves become complicit in the struggles of others, divided by our ideology and blinded by our ignorance. 2020 was a shock to many of us because on some level we are all guilty of this, myself included. There's no denying that that ignorance is partly the fault of decades of regressive changing policy and faulty educational curriculum. The widespread accessibility to information and disinformation, as well as the slow erosion of systems meant to protect the interest of the people. Oftentimes we as a country have remained divided over issues because we are not all equally affected by them. Many of us took up the attitude of “if it doesn't affect me why should I care?” Why fight for income inequality when you make a livable income? Why fight for marriage equality when you’re able to marry the person you love? Why fight for women's rights, when it doesn't affect you? Why fight for universal healthcare when you get perfectly good care from work? This highly individualistic approach has led us to a point where many of us had the privilege of not caring. And when harmful, regressive policies were enacted that often harmed poorer communities, LGBTQ, and BIPOC, we turned a blind eye. The pandemic changed all this. A tiny virus that cannot see race, ethnicity, age, or economic status. The virus on top of a botched response changed everyones lives seemingly overnight as businesses were forced to close, and many of us were forced to stay at home. This was and is our collective moment of hardship. Our period of darkness. When we as a people had no choice but to come together because to not agree meant thousands of lives lost. When every issue that our country faced was exacerbated because of it. When we couldn’t deliver PPE to hospital, healthcare workers lost their lives. When governors refused to shut down their states, thousands of people died. When businesses were forced to close due to health restrictions and the government was unable to provide adequate aid our country plummeted into recession and skyrocketed unemployment. While some of us have been affected more than others, we all have been affected one way or another. This is what woke us up as a society. Suddenly everything stops and we are forced to pay attention to the state of our world. We are forced to question how we got here. We see the effects of this when we saw millions march in the street around the world in support of Black Lives Matter. We also saw the effects of this when people came out and voted in record numbers. We saw this when people celebrated in the streets after Trump was voted out of office. 2020 is no doubt a very hard year for many people. It was a very dark year, a year of loss, and of great turmoil and historical significance. But it was not a fluke or coincidence. Years of action and inaction led to everything that occurred this year. But if there is any silver lining, it was a year of awakening for many of us. We were forced to take a hard look at our country and the world, and educate ourselves. We were forced to take action, and fight for change. We can only hope that this continues to happen, that well don’t allow ourselves to be lulled back into a sense of security or safety. In the words of Angela Davis, “Freedom is a constant struggle” and freedom, however we may define it, and the workings of democracy, must always be kept in check. So long as we continue to remain aware of what is happening in our country and to hold those in power accountable to the people, we will continue to progress as a people. Sources: https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/sites/default/files/microsites/ostp/NSTC/towards_epidemic_prediction-federal_efforts_and_opportunities.pdf https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNnVIu-Wc_o https://nypost.com/list/major-2020-events/ https://blacklivesmatter.com/herstory/ Becoming | Netflix Official Sitewww.netflix.com › title https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colin_Kaepernick Cover Photo Source: Freepik.com

If the 2020 U.S. elections have revealed anything to us, it is that the cult of Trumpism has prevailed despite hopes that the 2016 victory was just a perverted aberration, and that it runs deep in the bloodlines of half of the American population. Indeed, it could even be argued that there was a miniature “red wave”, with Trump receiving approximately 11 million more popular votes than he did four years prior. What is also clear is that Trump was not the perpetrator of an era of political polarisation, nor is Trumpism the source of widespread right-wing populism. He simply conformed to an existing trend that was rapidly gaining momentum, and his success is merely a symptom of what was already in the country: a medium of racial nationalism, Christian fundamentalism and counter-progressiveness, that has been growing and close to over-filling for decades prior. However, his legacy in the context of right-wing populism should not be underestimated; by honing in on the views he knew his followers had, expressing them publicly and still sustaining a growing fanbase with zero repercussions, he has created a safespace for closeted bigots, racists and neo-nazis to spread their narrative too. Simply put, he has made it more socially acceptable to humanise the rhetoric of dehumanisation of the marginalised, normalised venal manipulation of the truth to the public, pushed the agenda of skepticism in the face of outright evidence, and tried to facilitate the breakdown of democracy. In this sense, Trumpism will continue to thrive even in a post-Trump era, and his legacy will be reflected in the outspokenness of the once Silent Majority. Not only does the damage of Trumpism need undoing domestically, it represents a wider, intercontinental phenomenon that needs widespread dissolution. Right-wing populism, one that spouts anti-environmentalism, anti-refugee, neo-nationalism and Euroscepticism agendas, has simultaneously been growing in Europe. Although their populism was provoked by distinct issues and predates the one seen in the U.S., the four years of the Trump administration only reassures its presence in the world and uplifts its supporters. Illiberal democracies such as Hungary and Poland, that have always been vehement supporters of Trump’s populism, are the closest European allies with him, no doubt encouraged by their shared ideologies. Indeed, the U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo has expressed his support for Central Europeans to become the de facto political power point of the European Union. To undo Trumpism, therefore, would also be simultaneously undoing the growth of populism throughout the whole Western world. Although the lack of a cheerleader in the White House for their populist domestic demands for the next four years would mean less security when confronting with the European Union (namely more progressive with powerful leaders such as Angela Merkel), since 70 million people voted for Trump, there is no reason to suggest why the legacy of Trumpism cannot facilitate a similar individual to power in the near future. “The challenge of repair from all the wreckage left by Trumpism may be the work of not merely a political season, but of a generation” (David W. Blight). It is clear that there are deep cultural and political cracks in American society that have caused half the population to support a toxic, morally bankrupt administration. Given the decades-long path that led to Trump being elected in the first place, a fresh, revived presidency is undoubtedly insufficient to ensure that the ripples of Trumpism are constrained. Further activism and political reform is necessary: an emphasis on being united, an end to the rhetoric of factionism and polarisation, a revitalisation of international alliance, science, anti-racism, and climate justice. The U.S. needs to take whatever steps is necessary to ensure that Trumpism does not surge out of control once again. Cover Photo Source: https://www.economist.com/united-states/2020/11/05/trump-and-trumpism

I mean that we were born of the same blood. Her mother is my grandmother, and we are the same shade of tan. I mean that I hold a paper heart in iron ribs, mean thoughts in a mesh skull. I mean that I never cried when I was younger, and she taught herself how to read. I mean that I never have enough patience. I always want more. [My mother is twenty-two when she goes to donate blood. The needle sucks the life out of her, and she walks back home light-headed. The world spins. She smiles because she feels for the first time in years. I am seven when my mother bleeds. We’re in a new country, and I don’t know how to work the phone. My voice quavers when I tell her I don’t want a dead mom. I love you, I’m sorry, please stay. My mother smiles at me like I’m too young to understand, but I’ve always known. There isn’t enough love or blood in the world to make someone stay when they’ve made up their mind to leave. She tells me to go to bed. I close my eyes with her heart jumping in my chest.] I mean, at seventeen, the curve of my lips are hers, which means that when I laugh, I laugh her smile. I mean that on a good day, you can’t tell us apart. I mean that on the bad days, she looks at me through the mirror, asymptotic, and I will always be striving. [She asks me why I’m always so tired. She says she hasn’t slept a full night since eleven years old because of school, but was never tired because I had a goal, it’s not hard when you have a goal. I don’t bring up the past tense. She’s been out of school for twenty years. I don’t mention that, either. I tell her nightmares keep me up. It’s true. I spend all day chasing after my mother and dream all night about her slipping away. She gives me her sleeping pills.] I mean that everything decaying in me is hers. If I am quick to anger, if I am passive-aggressive and overly critical, it’s because she taught me to be. If I hurt you, I’m sorry – my mother has a ghost of a hold on my heart. I only meant to love you. I mean that everything good in me is hers – I mean, if I am kind, if I am holy, it’s because she raised me to be. I mean that I slam the door only poke my head out again, apologize, re-close it softly. I leave the last chicken wing but will gladly take it when it’s offered to me. I love the idea of love, blood-red and sticky-hot. [You taught me about love. You were right, you always are.] I mean that I am sentimental, but mostly scared. I am tired from the last ten years I spent away from home, but excited for the ten that lie ahead. [I mean that for me, 2020 felt like bleeding to death, and I’m still looking to come back. This time, I’ll be careful and slow and timid – like taking my first steps while my mother holds my hand. I’ll be eager and bold and optimistic – like laughing with my mother at the kitchen island.] I mean that I am seventeen but feel the weight of forty-six - I mean that I am unsure but I know I have nothing to fear when I say I am my mother’s daughter. [If I loved you, I’m sorry. I must not have done it right, and you bled instead. I’ll do better, I’ll do better this time. I will.] Cover Photo Source: Viddsee

Dear Asian Youth, didn’t think we’d make it this far, did we? as we race to leave 2020 in the dust build 2021 from the ashes as finals determine if we get those extra points we need to pass as seasonal depression fills our hearts with melancholy as we see old memories of better days pop up on snapchat and instagram i am here to shine a light on the darkness we’ve been feeling lately, and to tell you that i am so proud of you. i am proud that you were able to bloom where there was no sun thrive where there was no water i am proud that you keep your petals from wilting withering drying up i am proud that you’re still hanging in there, despite the fact that you have to stare at a computer screen for hours on end i am proud that you are fighting, and i know that it's hard but take a breath. and it’ll all be okay. it’s okay if you need a little extra time in bed. it’s okay if some days are harder than others. it’s okay if you sometimes can’t find the motivation to do your homework and can only find comfort in a monotone endless routine of sitting, sleeping, and scrolling. but just take a breath. you need it. we’ll be alright<3 - Julianne Cover Photo Source: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/article-2020-arts-preview-plan-your-next-year-in-culture-from-tv-and-film-to/

Dear Asian Youth, In the past few years, the media has been obsessed with the term ‘body positivity’, which enforces the idea that bodies of all shapes and sizes are beautiful, stressing the importance of showing love towards everyone’s physical being. Society has always had strict standards of beauty: the lean, tall, sun-kissed body on the cover of trending magazines. However, body positivity works to break these rules, where beauty does not have one definition. Though I am exhilarated to feel the power and passion behind the body positivity movement, it must be recognized that many people actually struggle immensely to look at their bodies through a positive lens. This brings me to a new term that I have recently come in contact with: body neutrality. The best explanation I can conjure up for body neutrality is the philosophy that we should acknowledge, accept, and appreciate what our body does for us, rather than how our body looks. It is essentially a middle ground. We do not have to forcefully love how we look, but rather we have to show gratitude towards how our body provides for us. Body neutrality emphasizes that self-worth is not determined by how your body looks, and that you can still live your best life without always feeling physically attractive. In all honesty, staring into a mirror and uttering positive affirmations over and over again is not an approach that works for everyone. If you truly dislike how your body looks, repeating words are meaningless, sometimes even toxic. Repeating how much you love your body when you don’t truly believe it only causes you to resent your body more. It is way easier to feel neutral towards your body than it is to always feel love, and that’s okay. “Body neutrality feels like a white flag amidst the warzone of thoughts going on in my mind; I don’t have to hate or love my body, I just have to accept it as my body,” said Becky Wright in an interview with happiful. Body acceptance does not necessarily require you to change your standard of beauty. You may still want to have a slimmer figure, but that doesn’t mean you feel negative emotions towards your current body. They are not mutually exclusive. “Part of the implicit goal of body neutrality is to free up all the energy and attention that women often devote to body angst so that they can care about other matters instead,” said Marisa Meltzer from The Cut. If you find it difficult to love your body, you can try respecting your body instead. Try looking deeper than the skin, and truly understand how your body functions. Appreciate how your eyes allow you to see, how your feet carry you to so many places, how your intestines digest food, how your body allows you to experience this world. Your body may not be perfect, but it has given you so much. To be in a world where all body types are celebrated still requires a lot of effort and perseverance. If you are not able to fully ‘love’ your body, that is okay. Body neutrality is the middle ground that allows you to honor your body and understand that your body does not determine your worth. - Eva Cover Photo Source: Medium

we will laugh about this, sitting in a circle, sharing stories, you will tell me; "mannav, we are free", i look around this circle: within it, we are free, "i agree with you", i say, unsure, but too mellow to discuss, today, I have decided to listen. but i think i agree with you, we are free, we do what we want to, our days are decided by us, isn't this freedom? to be able to do what I want by myself? What was freedom to cavemen, then? What was freedom before I woke up with a prayer in my mouth? What was freedom before I thanked an imaginary figure for my existence? What was freedom before I thought twice before posting online? What was freedom when violence was a necessity for survival and not a tool to bash dissent? When did freedom become a thing to protest, a thing to protest for? Am I free? as free as the primitive man? him and i stared at the same sky, same moon, same stars, but i wear glasses, my vision is tainted, If I take them off, am I free? Is blindness freedom in a world with braille? Is deafness freedom in a world with subtitles? i am lost in my own head again, is this my freedom? you shake me back into our free world, We laugh until the sun rises. then we remain silent until it is time to laugh again, the ebb and flow of the tide, the definition of free, is not timed, is not strictly routine, it is free, am i? but i think i agree with you, i am currently free, as i write this, i am free to write, But will I be free when words become contraband? when poetry becomes a crime, will you continue to write? but i know i ask more questions in one poem than can ever be answered, there are no answers to the question of freedom until it becomes a question no more. Cover Photo Source: https://www.absolutearts.com/painting_oil/abed_alem-freedom_-1465833283.html

Acknowledge the responsibility of officials to do better. People who behold power and capability must always settle for satisfactory results. Becoming complacent and content amid several unresolved issues produces subpar governance, tolerates slackers, and allows passivity. There should be discomfort and contempt when there is already an abuse of the citizens’ ability to withstand adversity. People shouldn’t allow the deprivation of their basic needs as they have the right to demand them. As young as we are, we should understand the importance of accountability. Citizens must be well-educated on the roles that different positions play while they remain coordinated with them. While we recognize that financial transparencies and clear frameworks do build more trust, we also should at all times maintain respect, dignity, and honor in dealing with and expressing distress concerning such officials. Recognize the actions of the government. Awareness of undertaken measures helps arrive at more informed opinions. Being equipped with sufficient information enables people to evaluate the party at fault or lacking. With this in mind, seeking means to address concerns regarding demands for better and more initiatives from such parties is fairer and more balanced. Monitoring enables us to review history, acknowledge patterns, avoid economic losses, and vow to do well. We should often remind ourselves of the significance of prioritizing. People need to weigh if the made decisions are under their urgencies. Swift action must be taken upon conundrums that impact most negatively on citizens. We need to grasp the fact that the existence of actions doesn’t necessarily equate to progress. There should be a consideration of its necessity, practicality, and worth—whether the time spent and the effort applied are proved to be beneficial. Condemn the saying, “That’s the spirit!” No doubt, there are people out there who are known to be resourceful; who are recognized as tough-to-break and creative individuals. However, there will always be a certain limitation where the work just becomes too overwhelming to handle— where it becomes depressing having to keep on finding money to eat for the day, or seeking clean water to bathe, knowing that this routine will repeat itself tomorrow. Where describing them as such resilient and persevering people, only overshadows the bigger picture that is their struggles. We somehow found a way to perceive the hardships poverty-stricken people encounter, as an example of a noble act of fortitude; when in reality, photographs and stories that contain these “heroic” actions, are cries for help. It may be heartening to see kids cross rivers to attend school, but shouldn’t seeing them arrive with dry clothes and fresh spirits give us greater joy? Remind yourself that your actions DO have impacts. Sure, we are still children, we are still young and unknowing of a lot of things; but one thing is for certain: that the suffering of our brothers and sisters are being normalized and dismissed. We may feel powerless, or too insignificant to have a voice; but if small things add up, it will create an enormous sum. Why not do something with our privilege and comfortability, and contribute to alleviating— even a bit, of the hardships other people go through? Why not learn more, join a cause, sign petitions, donate, and educate our friends and family about this wrongful glorification of resilience? There is now no excuse for our idleness in contributing to the betterment of the people’s well-being. Use the opportunities we are presented with, to present opportunities for others, too. If you still don’t care, you better check your privilege. Destroy that snooze button and act on your wake-up call that has been ringing for far too long. Author's Note: As 2020 hit us with different crises, the resilience and ability of people to withstand these adversities have been given much glorification. Having gone too far, the accountability of government officials and those responsible for such acts are diminished. As the youth, we must say that 2020 has brought us to continuously remain adamant and persistent in demanding liability. Because the capabilities of those oppressed become abused and overly romanticized, we must never forget to fight and eradicate subpar governance. 2020 has definitely proven that clear to us. Author's Biography: Two teens striving to express their political frustrations through writing and journalism, upholding moral values and fundamental human rights. (Instagram: @romamanaois and @fionaenca) Cover Photo Source: RCNi

Hong Kong: Familiar sounds of men shouting across the streets in the abrupt and abrasive dialect of Cantonese fade in and out of my ears. A drop of rainwater lands on my nose. I jolt and look up to see that it has been dripping from the unstable bamboo scaffolding that I'm walking under. My mother tugs on my arm as we near a bustling road, pinning me in place before a taxi driver whizzes by, shouting profanities at me for nearly allowing him to run me over. She lets me go, and I still can’t move; instead, I’m surrounded by herds of people, decked out in their designer clothes and pretentious trainers. Apparently, I’m a trend-following sheep too, because I’ve been dragged into some obnoxiously loud, EDM- booming beauty store. Leeches are everywhere when you walk into those places; a worker immediately latches themself on to my right arm with a busload of skin whitening products… -ah yes, the reminder of my culture's colourism. When they finally come to the realisation that simply naming products won’t work, they start to play dirty: they start to target insecurities. This is the part where you have to nod and allow them to dig into you. This “beauty assistant” is assisting me in realising that my pores are too large, and my skin is too oily. Although I agree, I’m seething in opposition. Yes, my pores may be craters and my skin the equivalent of a frying pan, but what happened to personality-gaining points? “Never” is the answer in this superficial, materialist hell. So you find yourself pathetically grasping five boxes of ‘serum’ (whatever that is) and waiting in a thirty-minute line with other insecure people. A midlife crisis is on the edge of imploding by the time you reach the fifteen-minute flag. You check your phone, and no one is texting you. Why is no one texting you? You start calming down with the idea that all of your problems will be solved with these tiny, consumerist bottles that you’re holding. You’re in too deep now, gal. The city has swallowed you up and it’s going to spit you out. London: It’s raining. They said this would happen. Over the course of the week, I’ve noticed that time seems to move more slowly here. My life is staring out of windows now, dead flies glazed over glass, that all too familiar feeling of a bubbling in my throat. That warm place is where I long to be--not a world with grey filtered skies and the memory of stomach ache goodbyes. I find it hard to believe that some of the world's most famous poets and writers lived here. My father drags me into a musty bookstore and I think about what Alex would have done if she were here: probably role play Hugh Grant in Notting Hill and push me into the character of Julia Roberts. I wouldn’t mind. I’m staring out of the window (again) at a lurid leaf that’s trapped on a wet grate, Lady Chatterley's Lover is in my right hand and a collection of Katherine Mansfield stories are wedged beneath my left armpit. I could romanticise this but there’s something awfully lonely about fantasising with a modernist piece of borderline erotica in my hands in a city where everyone avoids you. I’m growing tired of the inactive eye contact and aggressive shoulder bumps from fast-paced workers. The grass is the colour of God’s snot, and the clouds serve as shadows on the already soaked pavements of Piccadilly. Maybe if I buy this book, I’ll feel happier. I don’t know. Every now and again, I’ll go round in circles like some optimistic dog and pass the all too familiar buskers who fill my world with artificial sound until it eventually grows into haunting reverbs behind me. I look back, I always look back. We’re in Chinatown now, red lanterns line from building to building and the smell of sweet pineapple buns are wafting through the air. This is the heart of London. The concrete beneath me is cobbled though and I still struggle to speak my own language to the workers. Everything is blurring into a monotonous cloud and I feel the air beneath my boots, my arms limp, and the burden heavy. Cover Photo Source: https://depositphotos.com/147877403/stock-video-young-woman-walking-through-the.html

Dear Asian Youth, As an Asian-American, I am not living in my native country. Asia is quite far from where I live right now, so oftentimes, I don’t visit. You can say that I’ve become “Americanized” in a way. I go to a predominately white prep school, and I am not actively in touch with many native-born Asians (besides my family). But something I still retain from my Asian heritage is my taste for food. Since my family is from Hong Kong, I remember frequently heading to busy dim sum restaurants and eating home-cooked meals. I miss sinking my teeth into crispy pork belly (siu yuk) and shoveling heaps of chewy rice into my mouth. When I was small, I remember kids would be weirded out because I’d tell them I ate soup dumplings (xiao long bao) and Peking duck. I mean, clearly, there are cultural differences between myself and Caucasian kids, but I’ve never felt embarrassed by my traditional food. I enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for a sense of nostalgia, but I wouldn’t trade it for a delicious bowl of shrimp fried rice. I grew up eating many different dishes from all around the world: Japanese, Korean, Indian, French, Italian … the list of cuisines goes on and on. But I’ve met some people who have never eaten Asian food in their entire life, and I just pity them. My family always exposed me to food outside my culture in order to diversify my palate. I associate family heavily with food. Whenever we get together as a family at home and my grandfather makes lobster noodles (yee mein) or we go out to the Chinese supermarket to buy groceries for the week, I reminisce about my childhood. I recall going to Chinese school as a child and getting sweet rice cakes for snacks during resting periods. During Chinese New Year, I would munch on sticky rice wrapped in leaves (zong zi) and drink Yakult to wash it all down. I’m glad that my parents didn’t try to assimilate my taste buds to suit America. I’m glad they instill the pride of our native dishes in me. Heritage is an important part of my identity, and it makes me sad to see someone become too wrapped up in “American” culture. No matter how much I change as a person, I can never change my race. I will always be Chinese and I am proud of that. When I was younger, children used to make faces at our ethnic dishes, and now they enjoy them in a variety of restaurants. I’m glad I never let judgment turn me away from delicious Asian dishes and I can still appreciate them with my fellow Asian friends. I find solace in the fact that we can connect through food because we remember growing up eating the same thing. I would love to travel to Hong Kong and walk the streets, sampling my favorite snacks. I think the locals would be able to tell that I’m a foreigner, but our tastes in food would tie us together. Food is a way to bring a piece of Hong Kong back to America for me. I’m not a skillful cook, so I am hoping time in quarantine can give me a chance to learn some Cantonese dishes. I always reminisce about the fresh taste attached with all the food I had growing up. Hong Kong loves to incorporate seafood into their dishes, so I still love eating protein such as fish and lobster. My fondest memory growing up was watching my grandfather cook in the kitchen and give me a spoon to taste the food. He always made sure that I remembered where I came from and told me stories of life in Hong Kong. I might have grown up American, but I still have a Chinese stomach. I am glad people of many cultures appreciate Chinese dishes, but I don’t think they will ever have that same cultural connection to it that I do. If you haven’t tried Asian food yet, just give it a try. You don’t really know what you don’t and do like until you try it. Something you might find “odd” or “weird” could be an integral part of someone’s native roots, so don’t be judgmental. A dish might simply be a dish for you. But for me, it is a way to remind myself of my roots. - Ella

I love you. I love your eyes, the way they light up when you see me, I love your tiny hands, and the way your five fingers wrap around one of mine I love your little laugh, how it sounds like twinkling bells ringing on a quiet night I love everything about you. Always and forever When I look at you, I believe in eternity. you are that precious. Trust me when I tell you that you are so loved and special and perfect I will stand by you as you share your soul and everything you have to offer to the world, I will watch with pride as you thrive in a world you have created, A field of flowers filled with your dreams blooming into beautiful realities my reality is you. always and forever.