identity

My identity lies in moments that I cannot imagine sharing to my peers. I have mastered the art of drawing a curtain between the reality of who I am and the surface-level, minute-long introductions I give every year.

It's a simple idea that a woman should be able to be whomever they want to be, yet I feel pressure from all around me to be a certain kind of woman.

Black music heals me. For me, there is no other place to start but here — to pay homage to the music that birthed and raised me.

This column has been my little corner of the internet where I can write about my life, but as intimate as it feels, it’s scary how easy it is for anyone to find it.

As a Korean American woman, it feels as though every decision I make about my appearance is intertwined with my race, gender, identity and cultural history.

I’ve never considered myself to be a tomboy, but I've also never considered myself to be super feminine, regardless of how much I want to see myself in this way.

Acknowledging our names is equivalent to acknowledging the power of where we come from, no matter how storied or displeasing our ancestral clues may be.

There was a time when I believed that the best phases of my life were periods in which I clearly knew the answers to existential questions of identity.

She places a morsel of her soul in between my teeth — Nice to meet you too.

I erased the preconceived notion that nonbinary was a strictly androgynous gender, and realized it is, instead, a rejection of any binary or trinary.