Art. When have you seen beautiful art of women with dark hair? And where? I want to fill my home with pieces reflecting life, and my life has a dark-haired daughter. How do I show her how beautiful she is? The only Asian dolls I could find when she was a baby came out of a catalog, not a store. Catalog was created by adoptive parents raising Asian children. The Asian community had never sought out dolls that looked like their children, or if they had, had not protested the void. Why?
Silence. Don’t make waves.
I see sumptuous baby pictures, so cute your heart melts, but the babies are always blonde. Why? I want the world of advertising and art filled with people who look like my daughter, not blonde, not sweet, but bold and daring. Wild and strong.
I want us to go through life making lots of noise, celebrating, crying, cheering, laughing, protesting what is not right, protecting what is. She takes me on walks along the riverfront and she insists we walk backwards. I’m just crazy enough to do it! Restaurant guests point and laugh, and we laugh right back and watch the river flowing a new direction, not away, not towards, but beside us. We notice what they’ll never see because when they finish their meal they’ll walk out like they always have and miss everything we noticed because we were walking backwards. And I paid less for this picture than for one of their meals. Shameful.
I want to see with new eyes.
I want you to see with new eyes.
See my daughter. Do you want to erase the Asian from her face before she dates your son, has your grandchildren? Or can you see her soul, her heart, and see what a lovely, loving woman she is becoming.
Can you see the future?
I can, and it’s filled with women just like my daughter. Asian.
Asian in your eyes only. Love in mine.