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#anyway happy aapi heritage month!
sonodaten · 11 months
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pricelessemotion · 10 months
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Never really over | S.H.
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summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references
a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldn’t be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians
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The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while you’re in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time. 
To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it. 
You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. You’re just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container. 
The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keith’s tyranny and Dustin’s antics. He helps you clean up when you’re done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, it’s so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use. 
Once he’s standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye. 
You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.
For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. It’s only natural to want to break free. 
You didn’t realize freedom would feel like this. 
“Right.” Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know you’re letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway. 
Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while you’re on shift at the coffee shop. You’re not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, they’re standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice you’re there. 
“A latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.” Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair. 
“I’m fourteen!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? I’m sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.” 
Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar.  
You set both drinks down on the counter when they’re done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays. 
“Thank you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter. “Y’know, you’re my most favorite barista in the whole world.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the only barista you know, but you’re welcome.” 
“So, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?” 
“Wow, let me think.” You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.”
“It’s a date.” 
“So… you guys are back together?” Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match. 
“No!” You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no? 
Is it really over?
Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As you’re walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!
Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steve’s house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave.  
Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there would’ve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You would’ve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home. 
You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore. 
Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.
“What’s on tonight?” You ask no one in particular. 
“The Princess Bride.” Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn. 
He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.
“Ah, that’s my favorite!” 
“I know.” Steve finally speaks up beside you. 
“We’ve only seen it like a million times.” Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on El’s shoulder. 
“Hey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service don’t get to complain about my movie choices.”
“Whatever, Steve.” The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice. 
You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, you’re freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didn’t realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that you’re almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen. 
In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that it’s a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch. 
Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.
It’s hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if it’s day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp. 
The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you can’t. You’re stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isn’t getting higher, you’re getting lower. 
You’re sinking. 
Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. It’s futile. The more you move, the further you fall. You’re waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him. 
You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steve’s retreating figure. 
Stay. 
“Hey,” Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “Wake up.” 
The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement. 
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you can’t sleep without. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”
You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach. 
“Where is everyone?” You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines. 
“They all went home about twenty minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You seemed so comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake you.” He shrugs, saying the next words gently. “Are you having nightmares again?” 
Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.
“I’m fine.” You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”
Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door. 
“You don’t have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.” He bargains. 
“I— I have to go. I’m sorry. Goodnight Steve.” 
“Please, you’re tired. At least let me drive you.” He’s practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys.  
“Just let me go, Steve!” Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house. 
Steve takes a step back away from you. “I’m sorry.”
Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you. 
“No, don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—” 
“Have to go?” He supplies. 
He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that he’s already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.
You don’t dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isn’t until you’re halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open. 
You don’t know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay. 
You’re the one who is always leaving. 
“She was totally flirting with you!” You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.
Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if you’d like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasn’t mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he won’t.
“No, she wasn’t.” You thought Steve’s obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.
“Yes, she was!” You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. “Y’know, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Don’t let me hold you back.”
“You’re not holding me back. Anyways, isn’t it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?”
“I’m still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought I’d return the favor.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds. 
“Last week at Family Video?” You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steve’s face. “Brandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.”
“And he asked you out?” Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side. 
“Is that so unbelievable?” At your response, Steve’s brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again. 
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Oh.” Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. It’s shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. “I’ll be right back.” 
With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you don’t have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You don’t know if you look like you’ve seen a ghost or if you’ve become one. 
Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. He’d sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didn’t account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didn’t even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didn’t think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing. 
Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.
“Are you insane?!” You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. “You scared the shit outta me.”
Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that he’s brought in with him chill you to the bone. 
“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly.
“How did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?” You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isn’t there. 
“I walked here.”
You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know that he’s following you. 
“C’mon, you’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.”
You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steve’s hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesn’t need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows you–all too well.
While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up. 
It’s a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you don’t have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, you’re interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors. 
The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, you’re drenched in nostalgia. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this–standing in his pajamas in your bedroom. It’s moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction. 
You realize you’re still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, you’ll end up back in his orbit.  
He steps cautiously around the room like he’s afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. He’s still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks. 
“It’s a good picture.” He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces. 
“It is.” You manage to choke out. “Why are you here, Steve?”
He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. It’s perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom. 
“It’s funny, y’know?” Steve lets out a mirthless laugh.  
“What is?”
“We broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.”
All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away. 
“I mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “Except, I don’t. I can’t wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we weren’t. I know that I’m not good enough for you–I’ve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.”
His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. He’s on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You don’t know how to bridge the ravine that you’ve put between the two of you. You know for him you’d make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.   
“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you weren’t good enough for me. You’ve always been good enough, Steve.”  
You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesn’t believe you. 
“I thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like it’s easy. Like the fact that we’re not together anymore doesn’t eat you up inside.”
“It’s not easy! It’s killing me!” Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning. 
You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didn’t know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didn’t provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didn’t want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away. 
He still came back.
This time he brought the storm with him. 
“I’m afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, it’ll all get taken away from me.” You confess, roughly wiping away your tears. 
Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand. 
“I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. “Tell me what I can do to fix it.”
The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he can’t. 
“What if you can’t fix it, Steve? What if I’m unfixable?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. 
“Then I’ll still love you anyway.” 
Steve looks up and the clouds part. You’ve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that you’d forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his. 
“Why?” The question comes out watery and wanting. 
“I can’t help it.” He breathes out. 
You understand the feeling. 
You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. You’d fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember them–like home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, there’s uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you. 
The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isn’t until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun. 
Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You don’t know how you ever survived without it. He’s all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, you’re soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.   
“Y’know, you didn’t have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. You’re so dramatic.” You joke, hoping that it isn’t too soon to start poking fun. 
His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.
“In my defense, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” He says, voice still thick with sleep. “Besides, you love it.”
You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. He’s right. You do love him. Rain or shine.
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swarmkeepers · 3 years
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#sola said#thinking about names!! about tâm and thao and [redacted campaign 2 pc]#idk like. i literally wrote In My Character Doc as one of the first things i did that it would be okay if ppl just wrote tâm's name without#the diacritical bc it would be easier and i put the phonetic pronunciation of her name in there too bc it is. not intuitive from the english#and i wasn't lying! it meant a lot to me to even have her name be tâm in the first place#i picked a name that was obviously vietnamese but i also picked one without actual tones because i Myself don't trust my ability#to pronounce that let alone other people. my vietnamese is Not Good#and like. it's just a step. away from all the white and mixed and 'amerasian' (eugh. why) characters i used to make#like i know my partymates are Good People and Friends and i genuinely was expecting folks to just like. write 'tam.' not quite pronounce it.#and it still would have been meaningful To Me#and i'm constantly so so surprised and so so happy when people Do put in that effort#every time i see my party (and people NOT in my party! so absolutely buckwild!)#put the little circumflex over the â or say tâm's name#it makes me SO happy in a way that i truly could not explain it feels a little irrational and ridiculous but also. so nice#like Everyone In The Party Does It holy shit it feels unreal#maybe i shouldn't be surprised maybe some other folks will say that saying someone's name correctly is like. base human decency and#i absolutely trust my party i know they're Good People but just. it makes me so happy. not the surprise of it but the Taking The Time/#Making The Effort of it#anyway happy aapi heritage month!#i love being vietnamese and i love that the things and the characters i create are inseparable from that!#names are just.#'you know that your name is safe in their mouth' YEAH#sorry to just be full of sap i'm making it everyone's problem :D#i simply. wandering isles folks are the coolest ppl in the world and i could not possibly have predicted how kind y'all are#even in the smallest things. i don't know if anyone thinks twice about tâm's name but me#tâm tag
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parcai · 3 years
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what the fuck??? what the fuck
😭😭😭 i think it's time to bring back my south asians dni post NDGSKSHSKS
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symptoms-syndrome · 3 years
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Cries anyway it's AAPI heritage month which makes me feel all kinds of things. And Hulu is doing this ad thing where they show all these Asian shows and I don't know. Seeing so many Asian people on TV and media feels overwhelming. It makes me happy but also makes me grieve the time I grew up not seeing any faces that looked like mine at all. Every time that ad comes on and I see faces that look like mine and cultural practices I wasn't allowed to partake in and Asian culture and people being celebrated it makes me feel. Sad. I grew up being told I was wrong for being Asian and Asian culture was backwards and I was "saved" from it by being surrounded with and engaging only with white society, being told I should look whiter act whiter be whiter. My eyes are too different my nose is too small my skin is too olive. Sometimes Asian features were praised but in a way that was...wrong. I wasn't "Asian" as much as I was "exotic." And I was rarely ever "Korean," never by my family really. I was just an imported good, strange and beautiful but gross and weird. Like how I imagine white people feel seeing durian.
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avocadohertl · 3 years
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Growing up on Guam be like you're visiting a war memorial because it's got good views of the beach and you wanna take pictures and your mom will say "this land right here used to belong to your uncle" in English because you don't speak Chamorro and then say nothing more on the subject and later drive to one of the military bases using any one of your relatives' military IDs to gain access since everyone's a veteran and then go grocery shopping at the commissary because groceries are cheaper on base than at the local supermarket
Anyway happy AAPI heritage month
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ronniewoo · 3 years
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Straight off the heels of AAPI Heritage Month and during the first week of Pride Month is one of the best holidays ever invented - National Donut Day! 😋 Donuts are one of my all time favorite things to shove into my face hole and they make me feel all the feels. Like, I’m happy when I eat them but then I’m sad when there are no more left. 😣 Anyway, if you want the best damn cinnamon roll donut (my go-to fave), I highly suggest going to @dadsdonuts in Burbank. Plus, they are family owned and run by the sweetest people! Win-win!! (at Dad’s Donuts & Bakery) https://www.instagram.com/p/CPtsSsXNycW/?utm_medium=tumblr
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chanluster · 3 years
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apparently back door is part of a grammy created playlist?? “in honor of aapi heritage month” or something along those lines 😳 idk if it’s true but
don’t get me wrong as much as I fuckin hate grammys/award shows and all that shit imagine how happy the kids esp chan would be 🥴🧍🏻‍♀️
but anyways 😭 I haven’t been on your blog in so long,,,, I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE YOU WERE BACK UNTIL I WANTED TO RE READ THE DUKE AND I YESTERDAY 😃 HOW ARE YOUU
OMG I SAW THEM RETWEET IT I WAS SO 👁💧👄💧👁 they deserve it fully !!! AND SAME HOLY SHIT after I saw the way they treated bts and other POC artists I’m like 😀😀😀🚔🚔🚔 W the grammys but if it means that skz would be happy then I’ll support
AND PLS S S S REREAD ?!?!? 💧👄💧 WHY AM I BLUSHING SO HA R D DSTOP IT T T T!1!1!1
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alicedaydreams · 4 years
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May is Asian & Pacific Islander American Heritage Month! May was chosen bc it was the month the 1st Japanese immigrants arrived in the US & the month the transcontinental railroad was completed by its majority Chinese workers - both in the 1800s. On the flip side, May of 1882 was also when the Chinese Exclusion Act was signed into law, & that wasn’t repealed until the early 1940s. 🙃 ✨🌸✨ A big struggle of being Asian American is the invisibility - you’re not Asian enough for Asians, but to white America, you’re always the perpetual foreigner. This is why discourse of popular media involving Asians can be frustrating AF bc the diaspora POV is often not considered. (And I’m only speaking from my personal AsianAm perspective since we’re not a monolith & PI Americans have their distinct experiences) 🌸🌸🌸 All of which to say, it’s important to recognize the history, culture, & contributions of all our ethnic communities so we can work together towards a better & more compassionate society. But in terms of #aapiheritagemonth specifically, it feels important this year to really make a point about celebrating #AAPI considering the rise of anti-Asian sentiments everywhere & to speak up against it where/whenever you see it. ✨🌸✨ Anyway I took this #selfie last summer when I couldn’t wait to show off my @asianamericangirlclub crop. They just released a new collaboration & I’m happy there’s a brand out there celebrating AsianAm girls & all the ways we are. 💖 🌸 🌸 🌸 #aapihm #asianamericangirlclub #beundefinable #teamaagc #ootd #geekchic #representationmatters #AsianStory #representAsian #summervibes #wiw #geekfashion #womensupportingwomen #selfiesaturday #liveincolor #asianpacificamericanheritagemonth #shopsmall https://www.instagram.com/p/B__QbPrgYe0/?igshid=12f3oylb9lilv
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