I knew
It was me
The Scientist from the Hood
It was a chilly winter day. The sky was gloomy and the temperature was low. I met him near the Venice canals just before sunset.
He called himself a scientist from the hood. He really was. He was a lab chemist and grew up in Compton.
It was a second date. We sat at a table in the patio of a Mexican restaurant. He talked about his upbringing in South Central LA and some very complex and sophisticated processes of his work. He showered me with a collection of terminology I’d never heard of. I remember watching the flames in the fire pit and thinking, “I’m lost.” Like, was I just given an episode of podcast about science all to myself? While sipping on a margarita and munching on stale tortilla chips on a cold winter afternoon? Maybe.
My date was polite. There was sweet innocence to his nature. In contrast to his good manners, his body, though compact, had a sturdy athletic build. His hair was as wild as his passion for science. His skin had the kind of darkness only the world's most powerful kings deserve.
We left the restaurant and started walking towards the beach, still hoping to catch the sunset. Then I immediately sensed tension in the air. There was a man coming towards us with no shoes on. He locked his eyes with me. “Oh shit,” I said.
His head was shaved unevenly. His face was covered with dirt and anger that had nowhere to go. He was screaming derogatory words and phrases at everyone who passed him. And now, he’s found another target.
“Fucking chink” he shouted. At me, of course.
The Scientist from the Hood was furious. He acted as if he was the direct receiver of the disrespect. He took it personally, to his heart.
Me, not so much. Actually, not at all. The man with no shoes kept saying horrible, nasty things to me. Even I was surprised that did not affect me. I remained calm the whole time.
Right there at that moment, I remembered the time in college I received a compliment from a man at a grocery store. “You look like Lucy Liu,” he said to me. He meant well, although I look nothing like her. But my younger self was hyper-race-sensitive and believed the praise was culturally inappropriate. I was naive. If it happened to me today, I’d gladly accept the flattery. I mean, Lucy Liu is a gorgeous woman. But back then, I found the man’s innocent yet ignorant comment offensive and took it personally just like my date.
So much has happened to me since college. A few years ago, I decided I was not to take personally of negativity thrown at me by those I don’t respect. It was a conscious decision. The experience with the shoeless man and the reaction of my date only assured me of my growth. I was happy. I was proud of myself.
Needless to say, we split for the day. We never saw the sunset. I drove home drenched in joy, alone.
And I never saw the Scientist from the Hood again. I sincerely hope he’s doing well because I am grateful for the meaningful nuance he added to my epiphany.
Essence of me
Big cat energy
A late night thought
Intuition
When I was in my late 20’s, I was offered a full-time position at a global ad agency. It was my first six-figure salary.
I was given a glorious job title, doing creative work for renowned brands, in a posh office in Chicago’s River North neighborhood.
With the money, I was able to afford to shop and lunch at nearby spots every day and live comfortably.
Soon enough, I found myself feeling out of place, totally disconnected from everyone around me in the office.
The people were nice. I didn’t receive any direct treatment that was unpleasant. But there was something off about some of them. I couldn’t really put that into words at that time.
And I blamed myself for feeling that way because I was young and unable to trust my judgment. I felt guilty for not vibing with my colleagues and the atmosphere of the office.
Every morning, I dreaded going into the office. I felt so alienated although many “nice” people surrounded me.
A couple of months after my start date, I decided to make up a fake reason and resign from the job. I was terrified about lying just to quit. I didn’t want to burn any bridges.
Years went on. I saw a headline on LinkedIn. A head of an agency was accused of harassment and was fired, along with a few other men who partook in the action. It was the agency I lied to leave.
Mirror souls
Warm summer night Sitting on the balcony floor Facing me closely On the faded blue beach blanket Two wine glasses Two mezcal shots One water pipe
Warm string lights Illuminating the texture of your curly hair Your eyes So wide and open Deep like the ocean Sad like the saddest movie I’ve ever seen
Your eyes on my eyes No blinking so far Piercing through my soul I feel seen for the first time
Level up
So I’ve been practicing a headstand for a while.
I got back into a regular practice of yoga around 2018 when I moved to a new neighborhood where I found a yoga studio I love. This is in Los Angeles.
I caught covid in late 2022. Then I came home to Japan in order to heal and recover from the serious decline in my health and well-being. I’d been away from my family for 3 years prior.
For the past 6 months, I’ve been practicing the headstand more intensively and intentionally than ever. And yesterday, with my knees bent (baby steps!), I was able to float both of my feet in the air for a few long seconds for the first time.
The headstand was always hard for me for two reasons. One, a lack of strength in my upper body. I’ve been training my upper body and core for this. Two, fear. I couldn’t kick the fear of vertical inversion. Everything about it was terrifying for me. It was psychological. The fear was limiting me, and I hated that.
Something happened to how I handled fear after a certain incident.
Recently, I spoke out against the untouchable masculine in my family. I say it casually, but this was monumental for me and my family, as he’s left immense emotional scars on me and others, for life.
This experience changed something in me. Something popped. I felt a level-up, and it feels fantastic.
Photo by Lauren W.