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Realizing that my mental illness is a long-term commitment is a bit liberating.
In Minor Feelings, Cathy Park Hong expresses a sublime rage about her Asian American heritage. Going through this book was a brief but detailed look into Asian Americana; you'll feel her empathetic anger both for and against her own people. It's a painful, ugly, and honest take on the strangeness of maintaining that awkward middle ground. Hated by those who 'rank lower' and oppressed continually by everyone else 'above'.
But she doesn't even want me to focus on her as an Asian American. After all, when do we stop being defined by our racial status and instead begin to be defined as the full individuals, raced or otherwise, that we truly are?
From the publisher's feed