Duke Final Supps Anonymous

I come from a community of storytellers. My childhood is ravaged by tales of the brave and the beautiful, but rather than being told fantasies, I grew up on stories of brutality, violence, and death. While my father gave heart-wrenching recounts of the Cambodian Genocide, I learned about the struggles my mother faced emigrating from Vietnam as she barely grappled onto the foundations of English in an extremely xenophobic America. The desensitization of inhumanity has enabled me to understand invaluable lessons about life, so although these stories do not belong to me, they have undoubtedly transformed who I am.

Only through stories can we comprehend chapters of life that create the book of us. Stories share the power of resilience while also encouraging valor in the face of vulnerability. And in the pursuit of sharing mine, I have given bold speeches and written elaborate editorials detailing my own tales. I’ve expressed my adverse struggles being an Asian American—never being Asian nor American enough. I’ve talked about childhood insecurities I’ve had for years, expressing an urge for reform in societal standards, and I’ve bravely touched upon my struggles with mental health and self-identity.

The palpable emotions and...