“Together we are as mighty as our ancestors up from the dead.”

By huiying b. chan
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Interviews

“The work of journalism is bound up in paying attention and noticing things. That’s kind of how I go through the world, with an antenna up for the unexpected, the beautiful, or the moving.”

Interviews

“As a writer, as someone who reveals their innermost selves linguistically, it’s lonely not to speak the same language as your parents.”

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Essays

The rise of the Chinese Trump supporter

Essays

The investigative journalist and author of the true-crime book The Good Girls in an interview about honor, caste, and patriarchy in India.

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Poetry

Kutenun seikat mimpi / dari telapak pemigi | I weave a bundle of dreams / from the palm of the pemigi loom

Poetry

And who could forget / when he declared he was going to marry himself, /showing up to Barnes and Noble in a wedding dress

Poetry

និស្វាសវាត / អស្សាសវាត / បស្សាសនៃ / ខ្យល់ចេញមិនចូល | In, out, held – / so goes the breath. / Winds leave but no longer come

Poetry

REPEAT: you stay up memorizing all the twists and turns of a ‘proper’ / enunciation and still your tongue fails you the morning after, syllables / flopping in your mouth like a dead fish, cleaved in shame.

Poetry

I would never have to shed my skin / in my leaving.

Essays

On making critical connections to the long legacies of intraracial and cross-racial Black and Asian American lesbian organizing and community building.

Poetry

Anahita’s head weighs 10 kilograms. Her hand, extended forward yet / disconnected from the bust, holds a fragment of drapery.

They say singing makes them recall the peaceful time in Arakan, that once upon a time, they used to sing these folksongs freely and proudly

Essays

He was nice to my father and his siblings. But still…

Essays

When you are a descendant of indenture, even the violence of the colonial archive presents the seduction of finding.

Poetry

거울로 들어가는 문을 찾지 못해 / 내게는 오늘의 밤이 계속된다 | Since I / can’t find the door, the night ceases to end

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now

Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Poetry

REPEAT: you stay up memorizing all the twists and turns of a ‘proper’ / enunciation and still your tongue fails you the morning after, syllables / flopping in your mouth like a dead fish, cleaved in shame.

Interviews

“The work of journalism is bound up in paying attention and noticing things. That’s kind of how I go through the world, with an antenna up for the unexpected, the beautiful, or the moving.”

Poetry

I would never have to shed my skin / in my leaving.

Interviews

“As a writer, as someone who reveals their innermost selves linguistically, it’s lonely not to speak the same language as your parents.”

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Essays

On making critical connections to the long legacies of intraracial and cross-racial Black and Asian American lesbian organizing and community building.

Essays

The rise of the Chinese Trump supporter

Poetry

Anahita’s head weighs 10 kilograms. Her hand, extended forward yet / disconnected from the bust, holds a fragment of drapery.

Essays

The investigative journalist and author of the true-crime book The Good Girls in an interview about honor, caste, and patriarchy in India.

They say singing makes them recall the peaceful time in Arakan, that once upon a time, they used to sing these folksongs freely and proudly

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Essays

He was nice to my father and his siblings. But still…

Poetry

Kutenun seikat mimpi / dari telapak pemigi | I weave a bundle of dreams / from the palm of the pemigi loom

Essays

When you are a descendant of indenture, even the violence of the colonial archive presents the seduction of finding.

Poetry

And who could forget / when he declared he was going to marry himself, /showing up to Barnes and Noble in a wedding dress

Poetry

거울로 들어가는 문을 찾지 못해 / 내게는 오늘의 밤이 계속된다 | Since I / can’t find the door, the night ceases to end

Poetry

និស្វាសវាត / អស្សាសវាត / បស្សាសនៃ / ខ្យល់ចេញមិនចូល | In, out, held – / so goes the breath. / Winds leave but no longer come

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now