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"The onion has layers... just like your securities."
A couple of insignificant words shouldn't matter much, but to me, it meant a lot. Forgetting a few words meant having awkward, half-formed conversations with my parents. It meant feeling alienated from an ethnic community that was strongly bound by a common language. Most importantly, it meant losing an inherent part of my Vietnamese identity. Each time I forgot another word, it was like I was a little less Vietnamese.
Introducing Born and Raised. A Huffington Post Canada series that will delve into culture and language, growing up in Canadian cities and the responsibility some of us feel when we think about our parents' future. The stories are told by our editors, writers and by Canadians from coast to coast. We explore the effect of parents who never told us they were proud of us, what it means to be mixed-race in blogs, features, and through video and Facebook Live segments with our editors. These are daily conversations second-generations have with each other, but this time, on a larger platform.
In seventh grade, I took a family trip to India and my weight was the hot topic. Family members I hadn't seen in years commented on how "fat" I had become; and when I walked into stores to buy sarees or lenghas, store owners told my mom it wouldn't look good on me or fit. It was blunt, but it was normal.
It may be an adaptation but every adjustment means the end product is closer to an shell of the material it's meant to pay homage to.
She is now being called "The Bullet Queen."
It's all Millennial's fears wrapped in one well-choreographed music video.
Who thought this would be easy (or even doable)?
The 26-year-old was bleeding freely and proudly.
For example, Indian aunties love talking sh*t!
We may be in the golden age of communication, but there are still plenty of ways in which we rely on other people to read between the lines — and figure out what the heck we're really saying. In her m...