Last night, we talked until 4am.
It was effortless. There was not a moment of silence; we not once ran out of topics.
We were talking about our family problems.
I think I connected with those four friends about family issues on a deeper level than anyone ever before. As an minority person in the US in a white neighborhood, I don’t think, well-intentioned though they may have been, that any of my white friends back home could have understood. There is something particular about the Asian-American identity; it’s a unique mix of flavorings and cultures and it’s entirely its own monster now.
Why do Asians clump together? Why do blacks, or internationals, or latinos clump together? Now I know. We connect, automatically, on a very deep level, because of our upbringings.