MICHAEL THACH
Michael is a queer son of Vietnamese refugees currently living in Treaty 3 on lands protected by the Dish With One Spoon Wampum. He is a student at McMaster University and likes to spend his spare time either with loved ones, or in some nondescript park with his friends.
SONGS FROM THE DIASPORA
I am writing to you because someone once said
I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me
whatever you want
To me
It doesn’t matter
I’ll be the perfect son
So don’t be upset, alright?
I swear I won’t disappoint
No, I am not hurt, because
I love you
I am writing so that I may never forget again.
After all, Má once said that stories and memories–that’s all we are.
Do you remember waking up to the scent of Má frying garlic and onions in the kitchen, and how you loved that she smelt of linen, fried fish, and warm skin? After all, you and I both know that to say, “are you hungry?” is to utter what cannot be said.
That is, “I love you,” or even “I’m sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am.”
And promise me this. That you will never forget how we came from nail techs, worm pickers, and factory workers. That once during winter, our mother sewed us a blanket from moldy, donated clothes to keep us warm. Or that every Vietnamese uncle’s go-to karaoke song is “Hotel California” by the Eagles. That we dreamt of a cottage up north.
And that our dad still screams in his sleep. Con ơi! Chạy trốn đi con! My son! Run away, and escape my son!
And let us not forget this crazy story:
When we moved into our first house, Má swore she sensed a child’s spirit in our bathroom. She told us to ignore it. But when it tore down the shower curtain and threw the cups we used to rinse our assholes against the wall, Má collapsed on the ground, her body crumpled and folded in on itself–and my face twisted when I saw it happen.
A large blood clot. It crawled out from underneath the toilet seat and lurched towards my mother’s cowering body. Our baby sister.
And did you know that the Vietnamese word for love, thương, can also be the word for injury or wound? You will learn in due time that it is those who love and cherish you the most, whose faces come to mind when we think of returning home, who may eventually break your heart.
And you will forgive and love them anyway.
Because, at the end of the day,
We are all tired.
And I understand that you’re hurting too.
