Jan 27, 2021
On Skinship
An ode to bathtubs, ‘PEN15,’ and the women in my life.
Though she lives, some part of Korra—the flame throwing hothead, insistent on taking up space—does not survive.
When I moved to America, I thought I could fashion a new life out of the escape, but a BoJack Horseman character taught me to be patient with setbacks
I’m coming to terms with the fact that—whether it ends in an unfollow or in a blow-up bash in a house in Malibu—sometimes the kindest thing we can give one another is a goodbye.
I remember the day Mom said “stage IV metastatic,” so now I need a show with forty seasons.
When palm trees swing in the soft breeze, I remind myself that my body is not an orchestra, and the trees are not dancing for me.
I didn’t know—or think I knew—any visibly queer women, and watching these fictional women half-existing seemed both comforting and lonely.
At the time, I didn’t know I could be anything but a girl, a quiet Chinese American girl, cute and easy to ignore, but Kurama hinted at other possibilities.
The truth was, for me and as for Fleabag, I wasn’t just looking for a good story to tell my friends. I was looking for something so much harder to grasp: a narrative.
The Roadshow is so kind, so simple, and so pure that you begin to wonder, “Could this even be faked?” When I visited the set in San Diego, I discovered—no, it can’t be faked.
I knew on a level the humor was cringeworthy, especially as a recently out gay boy facing heterosexist gender roles, but I didn’t care. I needed “Friends” to make our house feel less lonely and empty.
