To the Editor: Just this past Sunday, I woke up to the chapel bells. The church bells wake me up every Sunday, serving as a reminder that I’m a foreigner in this land. No matter how many years I’ve been living here, no matter how many friendships I’ve made, no matter that I speak a colonizers’ language better than my mother tongue, the bells tell me that I do not belong.
We are the children of loving, emotionally abusive parents who could not break the cycle of abuse. We are the children of immigrant families who constantly question the meaning of love and what the dictionary definition of emotional abuse is.