I graduated early from UC Davis with two bachelors in Psychology and Human Development with ambitions of pursuing a PhD in developmental psychology. I was volunteering in student research labs and about to apply to doctoral programs when everything, including my health, came to a halt.

A Responsive Prayer:

In times of danger and darkness,
When suffering and oppression seems to weigh heavily against our consciences and bodies,
We ask, God, for your grace in opening this space for us to remember,
And in remembering, to re-member ourselves and our neighbors into our lives and futures.

God, renew the earth through planting seeds and pouring your Holy Spirit unto all of creation

The aspects of my identity are fueled by tension and otherness. The battles of tension and otherness shout at each other, debate each other, lie to each other, chase each other. They torment me, define me, limit me.  

They tell me: I am not queer enough. I am not Korean enough. I am not American enough. I am not feminine enough. I have heard it all from society, even from my own community.

As we knelt and as the orchestral recording blasted on, I thought of my parents; I thought of how they had spontaneously dropped off a beautiful bouquet of flowers before this game, before they knew what we were planning to do,

Like packing lunches, there are many things parents do for their children every day that seem mundane and go unnoticed. And unpaid. Here are just a few:

A young boy you know well cautiously walks into a classroom. Arranging his pencils, he glances over at the card positioned on the corner of his desk. He thinks his name looks a bit strange in cursive. Some of the kids look inquisitively at his last name. A few think it’s funny, and a few think it’s really cool. Most don’t seem to care.