I grew up in New York, and I was always surrounded by languages. Spanish, Cantonese, Sanskrit, Yiddish, Mandarin. This is an angrier poem than I've posted here before, but sometimes I don't want to translate myself. Sometimes I don't want to tell people what my name means. Sometimes I am angry. Of course, plenty of people have a much harder time with this, but it's all the same problem. People pretend they can't pronounce my name. Mostly, I'm polite about it.
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