My story is one that can be told the world over, time and time again. My mother was native to her country, my father … one of the soldiers. I’m sure this story has been told in many languages of countries invaded by war. Mine happens to be in English this time around. They say I resemble him in certain ways but I have only my mother’s broken English and my stepfather’s animosity to go by. I’m one of the lucky ones. I was able to escape the country by an infatuation that lasted twelve years. My Vietnamese cousins often remind me.
Photo credit: Kate Farnady
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