Kim Rowe

Kim Rowe

Where I’m From #38 By Kim Rowe Inspired by George Ella Lyon I’m from window air conditioners, from Happy Meals and Rainbow Brite. I’m from the hills in every direction. (Verdant, rolling, a compromise between the jutting, coal-rich Appalachias to the Southwest and the horizontal, swampy farmland of Jersey to the Northeast.) I’m from the peonie bush the persimmon tree whose fruit I loved because I loved my grandpop. I’m from homemade cherry pie and arms heavy with shopping bags from Saturday at the mall, from Alberta and Clayton. I’m from the bursting laughter and the rage on the road, from you’re smarter than the average bear only child expectations and sliced onions in your socks for a fever. I’m from As I lay me down to sleep grace, even out to eat, and the pettiness of sin and a vindictive God. I’m from Goulds and Smith Holler, sausage gravy breakfasts and Old Bay dusted blue crab afternoons. From dinners by dad at 5pm sharp after construction work, From a 90s woman in a hungry corporate world. In my mom’s highboy dresser there were stacks of important papers, among them my certificate of birth, race marked as black, though my hair and skin could only partially succeed, even in the height of summer’s humidity and melanin’s rise. All these disparities, negotiated in dreams before my flesh came to be. I am from those moments of compromise, of the north and the south, Black and White and the family tree. Where to find Alyson: Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com [https://www.alysonshelton.com] Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/ [https://whereimfrom.substack.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ [https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/]

Nisha Mody

Where I’m From #37 By Nisha Mody Inspired by George Ella Lyon I am from hair oil, from Amla and coconut. I am from the carpet beneath my mom’s bed where I sat as my mom applied it on my hair. (oatmeal colored, burbur, unforgiving) I am from the bouganvillea magenta, my mom’s dream flower, also known as the paper flower which I just learned is edible. I'm from snacky dinners and anxiety, from Nalini and Himat. I'm from the criticisms and act like nothing happened, from You don’t listen! and No! I'm from Jai Shree Krishna which you better say before you hang up the phone. I'm from Arlington Heights and the Mody’s and Sheth’s, tomato gantya nu shak and cha. From the drive home from Devon Street aka Little India in Chicago where my mom got excited seeing a sign at a produce market advertising lychees on sale for 1.49 so when we went in searching and searching, only for me to realize that the sign said “leche” and we were in a Mexican produce market. Where to find Nisha: Website: https://www.nishaland.com/ [https://www.nishaland.com/] Where to find Alyson: Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com [https://www.alysonshelton.com] Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/ [https://whereimfrom.substack.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ [https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/]

Tria Wen

Where I’m From #36 By Tria Wen Inspired by George Ella Lyon I am from VHS tapes spooling to snow over time. From Joni Mitchell’s Greatest Hits, and vinyl from 1966, black as the soil in my parents’ garden. I am from the ocean of my mother’s imagination: a sea that is the sky, a sky that is the sea, air savory with the salts of our next meal — a wakeup from a dream. I am from seeds scattered generations before me, roots reaching across thresholds of death and new life. I am from passing stories around the dinner table and serving others before ourselves. From Mommykins & Bopperoni, Jeejers & Erry Burry. From expressing so much love through nicknames, our given names became starlight emitted only by those outside our constellation. I’m from the fluff of cloud where I first saw my fam. Floating in my mother’s space, I swear I could hear her voice echo, telling my sisters she was making someone just for them. I’m from beliefs in everything and nothing. Certainty that we all must be at least a little wrong. I’m from Washington, D.C., more or less 99% Chinese: a bushel of summer crabs tumbled onto newspaper not dry with Old Bay but drenched with ginger, soy, vinegar. From the night two strangers talked until dawn, and the days they filled with paper flocks of who they could be. In the basement of my childhood home, my fingers twist the dial of a time machine, adjusting VCR’s fuzzy tracking. For a few seconds, Mama laughs herself back to life, waving among daffodils. Her future, now past, is still ahead of her there. The snow melts. Reveals endless spring. Where to find Tria: Website: https://www.triawen.com/ [https://www.triawen.com/] Where to find Alyson: Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com [https://www.alysonshelton.com] Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/ [https://whereimfrom.substack.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ [https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/]

Ronit Plank (Take 2)

Where I’m From #35 By Ronit Plank Inspired by George Ella Lyon I am from a scratchy sofa striped in five different shades of brown and hotel towels we brought home in our suitcases From Raid roach spray, Aquanet, canned creamed corn, and bringing Dad coffee in the mornings: two teaspoons Folgers, two teaspoons sugar, a splash of cream I am from bigger than the first apartment, darker and dirtier compared to the rental house, half a world away from the desert where I was born and a bunch of places I left but have never been back to I am from bare walls, quiet adults, and my sister’s doll Naked Baby I thought was so ugly in its bald and big-eyed newborn bird way but wish we still had From sand in a sandbox and in my mouth, the crunch of minerals and salt a lesson even then that I can digest hard things, take them in until they become a part of me I am from cereal in front of the TV after school and doing my homework before Dad gets home From Grandpa Lou and Grandma Jean, the ones that did less harm than the other set who I won’t name here. From an uncle sent away to an institution when my mother was seven who she got to see sometimes on Sundays. I am from there are two kinds of people in the world and if you don’t want to be said no to don’t ask from WW II and divorce, generational and Jewish trauma. From children who didn’t get to be kids and adults who didn’t know how to hold onto love and dreamt of another time and place, just not this one From Chinese restaurants on Sunday and on Christmas Day, bagels with shmears, challah and black and white cookies when I was old enough to feed myself, and before she left, my mother’s gingery tofu stir-frys and homemade manicotti bursting with ricotta. I am from breast cancer claiming Grandma Anita and bone cancer claiming Grandpa Lenny From a great grandfather I never met but have heard about because he was kind to my mother when her mother was not and never could be. From no dolls, toys or baby clothes left, but photo albums I look at over and over again to read the faces of the people I couldn’t quite understand. Where to find Ronit: Website: https://ronitplank.com/ [https://ronitplank.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ronitplank [https://www.instagram.com/ronitplank] Where to find Alyson: Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com [https://www.alysonshelton.com] Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/ [https://whereimfrom.substack.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ [https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/]

Ronit Plank (Take 1)

Where I’m From #35 By Ronit Plank Inspired by George Ella Lyon I am from a scratchy sofa striped in five different shades of brown and hotel towels we brought home in our suitcases From Raid roach spray, Aquanet, canned creamed corn, and bringing Dad coffee in the mornings: two teaspoons Folgers, two teaspoons sugar, a splash of cream I am from bigger than the first apartment, darker and dirtier compared to the rental house, half a world away from the desert where I was born and a bunch of places I left but have never been back to I am from bare walls, quiet adults, and my sister’s doll Naked Baby I thought was so ugly in its bald and big-eyed newborn bird way but wish we still had From sand in a sandbox and in my mouth, the crunch of minerals and salt a lesson even then that I can digest hard things, take them in until they become a part of me I am from cereal in front of the TV after school and doing my homework before Dad gets home From Grandpa Lou and Grandma Jean, the ones that did less harm than the other set who I won’t name here. From an uncle sent away to an institution when my mother was seven who she got to see sometimes on Sundays. I am from there are two kinds of people in the world and if you don’t want to be said no to don’t ask from WW II and divorce, generational and Jewish trauma. From children who didn’t get to be kids and adults who didn’t know how to hold onto love and dreamt of another time and place, just not this one From Chinese restaurants on Sunday and on Christmas Day, bagels with shmears, challah and black and white cookies when I was old enough to feed myself, and before she left, my mother’s gingery tofu stir-frys and homemade manicotti bursting with ricotta. I am from breast cancer claiming Grandma Anita and bone cancer claiming Grandpa Lenny From a great grandfather I never met but have heard about because he was kind to my mother when her mother was not and never could be. From no dolls, toys or baby clothes left, but photo albums I look at over and over again to read the faces of the people I couldn’t quite understand. Where to find Ronit: Website: https://ronitplank.com/ [https://ronitplank.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ronitplank [https://www.instagram.com/ronitplank] Where to find Alyson: Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com [https://www.alysonshelton.com] Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/ [https://whereimfrom.substack.com/] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ [https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/]