All American
My motherspoke four languages,but only let us speak one.It didn’t matter.Our almond eyesand olive skinscreamed differentin our milk white town.Too ignorant,or perhaps just uncaring,they couldn’t tellone slant-eyed culturefrom anotherso chink became their favorite taunt.I never told my mother.She wanted to believethat we could beall-Americanand denial was a specialtywe served at every meal.