I haven’t had many words to share here because life has been heavy and my journal pages have been a safer landing place for the myriad of thoughts I’ve been having. As an Asian-American, the past few weeks have left most of us riding a rollercoaster of emotions surrounding our identity, our nation, our belonging (or lack thereof), as we navigate the current seas of racism, hate crimes, and violence.

I was one of the few Asian Americans in my elementary school. In high school, there were very few Asians on the swim team (most played tennis and badminton), so I prided myself on belonging within a circle of Caucasians. I went out of my way to prove I was just like them. I blasted country music from my car while sitting at stoplights. I chose to eat Starbursts over rice crackers. In retrospect, I wanted to change the narrative surrounding Asians from people who smell like mothballs and eat pig’s feet to someone just like us who hates early morning swim practice and makes corny jokes and eats Poptarts and likes Shania Twain. I wanted them to like me, and in turn, accept and approve of Asians in general.

I’ve spent this past month taking a writing class on poetry and observational studies in nature. We studied line, color, form, and plant morphology in nature and transferred them to our writing. It is by intimately knowing something that we can respect it and reciprocate love. By identifying plant species and learning their specific names, I developed a kinship and an appreciation for them. Now when I’m on the trail I can properly identify Miner’s Lettuce, Dandelion, Stinging Nettle, and Marrow.

For some, these plants are classified as ‘weeds’ growing on the side of the road. But through my deeper studies and education surrounding the plant world and plant medicine, I recognize that each has deep, medicinal and healing qualities that can treat skin infections, acne, eczema, hair loss, anxiety, and liver disorders.

To some, Asian Americans are weeds. A nuisance. Threatening the American dream. Growing recklessly on the side of the road, a menace to the well-manicured landscaped garden of white America.

Am I a Jap?

Or an American?

Is it a weed?

Or an herb that can heal your ailments?

When you take the time to get to really know something- whether it’s a plant or a human being- you begin to recognize that everything and everyone has inherent value and beauty and something to contribute to this planet.

To my AAPI friends and colleagues, keep growing. Some will see you as a weed, while others will know you and appreciate you as kin. It’s not your job to convince them. Those who truly matter understand we are all interconnected. We are all one.