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Submitted on
October 23, 2012
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"So where are you from?" The boy leans toward me, questions swimming in his eyes. I smile.

"Oh, I'm from Boston."

"No, I mean, where are you from?" My smile falters as I realize where this is going. It's an all-too familiar conversation, one I've been having since I was old enough to reply.

"Do you mean where was I born?"


"I was born in China."

"Do you speak Chinese?"


"Does your family speak Chinese?"


He looks befuddled. I sigh.

"I'm adopted."

"Oh!" I see the light bulb over his head go off in a shower of sparks. "Do you know who your real parents are? Like, your real parents?" My temper flares. I stifle the urge to throw something.

"You mean my biological parents?"



"Oh." There's an awkward pause. I have learned to wait it out, to prepare my next automated response.

"When were you adopted?"

"When I was a year old."

"Did you live in an orphanage?"


"Like in Annie?"
Rolling my eyes seems appropriate.

"No, not like in Annie."


A woman hobbles past me, a plastic trash bag of aluminum soda cans slung over her back. She looks ancient, but probably isn't older than mid-fifties. She's wearing a thin floral blouse, buttons slightly skewed; pastel pants at an unfashionable cut and length; a white bucket hat with an elastic snapped snugly under her chin; her bangs cut bluntly across her forehead. Is this how people think I'll look in thirty years?

"You know," my dad says, casually forking his chicken at dinner, "if you were biologically related to me, you and your brother wouldn't be half as smart, and half as good looking." I laugh, but secretly wish my dad would give himself more credit.

My brother puts on his best Asian accent – "Fri' ri' one dollah" – and asks if I can do it too. I say I can't, when what I really mean is I won't.

"You're really different," he says to me. I'm doodling in the margins of my homework and glance up, surprised and flattered.

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You're not like the other Asian kids I know."

"Oh." This again.
It's something in my speech: the cadence, the lack of an accent. Something in the way I walk with my heels, the way I move my hands like the conductor of some mad orchestra, something no one can ever quite put their finger on.
But it's enough to make me "really different".

My friends like to tease me by calling me things like "Banana," "Twinkie," and "Whasian," things that mean "yellow on the outside, white on the inside." It's easier to laugh and accept it than to explain why I don't meet their eyes when I do.

"You look beautiful today," my dad tells me, looking up from his book as I'm about to head out the door. I strike a melodramatic pose.

"It's in my genes," I joke.
I'd really appreciate your thoughts. (:

And a title. :XD:
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Daily Deviation

Given 2012-11-19
Automatic by *IndigoSkyes
Deviant also suggested by *xlntwtch ( Suggested by WyvernLetDie and Featured by neurotype )
I just gotta get this out right now, you are so very beautiful for writing this piece, Indigo, and I really mean that with all my heartstrings.

The way you write- your tone, and the honesty and emotions I felt while reading through this piece of non-fiction made me well up- I don't exactly know why though. Maybe it's because I know what it feels like to be bullied or teased, more so maybe it's because I know what it feels like when everybody and sometimes even myself conclude that I am different and will always be different.

Please never stop doing what you do. What you have- your own blend of special- is far too beautiful to ever let go of:heart:
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Morning-Star-42 Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Aww, I love the last part. Very honest and clear writing, thank you for sharing!
IndigoSkyes Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for your kind comment!
stealthyninja21 Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2012  Student General Artist
Beautiful :)
IndigoSkyes Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
TempestJones Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2012
oh wow. I really like it.
IndigoSkyes Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
TempestJones Featured By Owner Dec 14, 2012
of course :)
Dicegirl14395 Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
oh gosh thats so me! the moment someone sees me they switch to english (in seychelles most kids speak creole, even though english is taught at all schools) and speak soo slow witch hand gestures! even though i was born and raised in the seychelles.. then inevitably i get asked the question.. 'are you indian?' no.. 'sri lankan' no.. 'then what are you?' and i have to explain im seychelloise but both my parents are maldivian but had to move here cause my dad got exiled due to his dad being the president (a LONG story) but my great grandparents are originally Portuguese, but i was born and raised in Seychelles and went to government school therefore am perfectly capable of speaking creole.. then i get the OTHER inevitable question.. 'oh.. so your grandfather was a president.. does that make you a princess?'

-__- no.. no it doesnt..

lol! sorry to ramble on! but anyway congrats on the DD!!! :heart: and stay unique!!! youre awesome as you are!!
IndigoSkyes Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Wow, thank you for sharing your story. That's so crazy.

Thank you very much!
Taschasan Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
"Where are you from?" or "What [meant: nationality] are you?"
My answer "from Austria" or "Austrian" doesn't seem to satisfy people, since I have Persian roots (which seem to be obvious to them), I went over to just sayin': "From earth" and "Human. At least I hope so..."

All this stupid, nonsensical questions. They just get in my nerves.
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