"The Silence that Binds Us" by Joanna Ho, Chapters 40–60

"I bet they gave you some spiel about efficiency, innovation, and doing what’s best for the company.”

I can see my mom’s face alternating rapidly between a shocked open-mouthed look, an attempted smile, and resignation.

“You need to stop responding to Mr. McIntyre. Stop putting him on blast, Yam. This isn’t a joke. Your letters are a liability for her now,” my dad says, the edge in his voice growing sharper.

We bust out my laptop so he can show me some of the political cartoons where the Chinese were labeled barbarians, heathens, and the “lowest, most vile of the human race.”

My dad shakes his head emphatically.

He tousles my hair and starts to tuck me in like a mummy.

The bile in my stomach bubbles toward my esophagus.

I scan the front seats, poke around in the glove compartment, and open all the nooks and crannies.

It’s hard to glean any information from Danny’s handwriting.

“Yeah! Mr. McIntyre and his minions—no offense to the cute yellow ones from that one movie—can’t dogpile you if there are tons more people backing you up,” says Tiya.

“We are reaching out to AASA, BSU, and the magazine and video journalism classes. I guess student council is just another student group?" Tiya muses.

I think what May and Tiya are doing is important and we can help them make change. It’s our responsibility as campus leaders to show solidarity here.

The others have been labeled in my mom’s and my dad’s handwriting, respectively.

She’s wearing new silver hoops with scalloped details, and they wave in the air as she talks.

“My āyí started talking in Taiwanese after I got mad, so I didn’t get everything, but that was the gist.”

“How was Haiti, Tiya?”
“It was...an experience.” Tiya doesn't elaborate either, but she reaches for my hand the way she does, and we both hold tight for a few seconds.

If my mom's boss didn't like my poems, I can't imagine that he'll be pleased when he learns I led a rally against his college buddy. How can I risk my family's livelihood or their safety for this?

Turns out Poli and Ms. Daniels are close, and she's stoked about the idea.

Grace gets some students in her video journalism class to start editing and splicing the clips.

As the president of the Asian American Student Association, I feel it is my responsibility to articulate a few of these concerns.

I really thought we would all stand together, united in a common cause. Now that seems so naive. My parents were right: I really don't understand anything.

The way things are going these days, I'd probably get suspended and maybe expelled and then trampled by a herd of pregnant hippos. The silent disappointed kind my mom has at her disposal.

The government and media took this idea of studious, compliant Asian Americans and blew it up into the ‘model minority'
 myth during the civil rights movement.

It placates Asian Americans. Increases their proximity to whiteness and makes them more likely to drink the white Kool-Aid.

One, it makes Black folks, not the racist systems, the problem. Two, it makes assimilation more appealing for Asians. They drink the ‘white Kool-Aid.’

Three, it divides oppressed people so we won’t unite against our oppressors.

Why doesn’t more of my community speak up against issues of injustice? Why don’t I know more about the people who do? If we don’t even stick together when the injustice is against us, how will we show up for anyone else? Why have I allowed myself to be so complacent and ignorant?

I smile wanly in her direction.

Ms. Daniels procures a bar of chocolate and breaks off a piece for me, saying, “I keep these for emergencies. I think this counts.”

His face is impassive as he nods.

Tiya glowers into her plate and Marc says, “Pops, you heard May. You have to hear Tiya really sing. People are going to be creating roles just for her."

“Amah and Agong worked the paddies their whole lives and you studied so hard to be the top student at Tai-Da, the number-one university in Taiwan—”

My dad says, "When you grow up, you’ll understand. The real world will knock that idealism out of you real quick. I used to think the way you do, Yam. You think you can change the world, but the best you can do is watch your back and survive.” My dad sounds like a stranger. Who is this jaded man, and what did he do with Bà?

Spending my birthday alone is a stark contrast to last year, when Danny pulled off the best birthday surprise ever.

He looks earnest and sincere.