We are our skins; we are our hides. But my skin, and the skin of others like me, has been torn. It is at the site of this gash that our identity coheres, that our identity is espied.
Poetry mixtapes, music for aliens, Asian American science fiction and more.
‘When we bury someone, cremate them, mark their grave, thousands of miles from their place of birth, we are in some ways promising that we will return to them and that we will return them.’
In Huan Hsu’s The Porcelain Thief, the search for a family treasure unearths the spell of nostalgia
Where the “Yellow Peril incarnate” meets one novelist’s depictions of China and its diaspora in the early 20th century
Rahul Mehta and new pathways for the hyphenated writer
Jennifer Kwon Dobbs, inquiring into a poetics emerging from the adopted diasporic condition, guest-curates a portfolio of poems for The Line Break.
On rural Chinese costume jewelry, and eerily quiet portraits.