In a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy
-Jenny Holzer
Just got back from drinking at a bar and chatting with a good friend. The bar was across the street from my apartment complex; I can literally hear the music on weekends when I'm working overnight from home. Working a 7-on-7-off schedule has felt like living half a life over the years: one week I'm on parole, the next I'm jailed for bad behavior, lol.
A couple of weeks back, I came home from a concert with the same said friend. That night, I felt this moment of clarity that this is what I dreamed of as my best life in America. Like that Ice Cube song, chilling in my foreign coupe:
I gotta go cause I got me a drop top
And if I hit the switch, I can make the a-- drop
Had to stop at a red light
Lookin in my mirror, not a jacker in sight
And everything is alright..
Why can't I feel this way all the time?
--
Then as I sober up, I get the same creeping sensation that it might be impossible to have this feeling all the time in America as an Asian American male.
Do I ever get this feeling of belonging, of my best American life when I'm not under the influence? Truth is hardly ever..
What is it about this country that f-cks with its minority population? Though I'm not being targeted by the police, it certainly doesn't feel good to have the continual subconscious reminder that I am an asexual, non-threatening male in this society.
There is also this limiting belief that my writing isn't good enough. That I'm not worthy enough to express myself after years of continual self-rejection. And that's probably true that my writing isn't where it should be. But it is a skill that comes with practice. And I'm going to give it a shot.
Because I have a plan, a dream, a way to survive. And I am full of joy.
-ji
