At the age of five, I was taught by my Great Auntie how to slaughter chicken. Earlier in the day, Great Auntie went to the open market and bought a …
Category:
Fiction
Anna sat on the old barstool, propping her elbows on the counter and swinging her legs back and forth as her mother cut rice flour dough into flat squares. Mama …
Excerpts from Reimagining ChinaTOwn: Speculative Fiction Stories from Toronto’s Chinatown(s) in 2050. (Preface by Linda Zhang) What would it look like for Chinatown to thrive instead of just survive? Who …
He was walking briskly along the travelator, pulling his suitcase behind him, when the thought appeared in his mind—what if it were possible to determine the exact date of our …
Trigger warning: eating-disorder behaviours – continued from Part Two *** “Do you want to go to Tita Baby’s house?” My mother asked. I didn’t want to go. But it wasn’t …
Trigger warning: eating-disorder behaviours – continued from Part One *** When I was four, my parents had to install a fence in the kitchen to keep me contained from my …
I was eleven years old in 1951 when this story happened. My mother, Lum So Wah, was a small-framed woman, five feet three, 105 pounds, with greying black hair and …
Trigger warning: eating-disorder behaviours When I was eleven, my mother would often feed me sinigang. It was my favourite food — the puffy rice; the mounds of soft spinach; the …
I am the only boy in the neighbourhood to have a wooden duckie. This yellow duckie quacks and rolls when I pull it along on a long string. Boys and …
Nobody Chinese—well, hardly anyone Cantonese—says “bak yren” to identify a Caucasian. “White person” is too descriptive, obvious, and bland. In Cantonese, the idiomatic expression “fan gwei lo” is given to …