NGHIEM NGUYEN
THE UGLY PARTS a book of spilled ink and incoherent thoughts
What/who am I?
Dear Reader, I am so afraid. All the time. I'm afraid of speaking up and saying the wrong words. I'm afraid that people will think I'm stupid. That I have the wrong opinions. That I talk too much. That I talk too little. That I don't say big enough words or have deep enough thoughts. That I'm selfish.
I'm afraid my voice will be lost in the chaos of this unstable world.
So sometimes I write down my thoughts. Rarely do I explain them. Sometimes I make art. Sometimes I share it. Sometimes I don't.
I'm trying to be better about sharing. About accepting love and knowledge, but also giving it out to others. I believe that learning and healing are collective processes. I think belonging in a community is one of the most important things in life. Here is a book of things I'm willing to share. Even the ugly parts. If you feel moved enough, I hope you also learn to share your thoughts with the world. Provided that they are not harmful to others.
With Love, Nghiem Nguyen
Asexual/Gray ace
valid.
I hope you don't see this because you will probably hate me. dude you used to be like so cool. like I guess when you were still in the stage of chasing me, or whatever. like when you still put in effort. and you still talked about things that matter. were you just trying to impress me? you talk a whole lot about how you want to "fix the world". you have so many great ideas. you want to solve "real world problems" with your super duper fancy skills that you were taught growing up. you talk a big talk. everyone knows you're always so eloquent and persuasive. you go to all these networking events and your linkedin is so super official. god. how can you even know which problems need solving? i keep telling you to read more about feminism and anti-blackness and queer issues and shit poor people have to deal with. i told you how that thing that i do or say is part of my identity, and you say you don't understand. i tell you to go look it up because i am tired of explaining. and you look so annoyed. i ask you to please ask for my consent before you touch me or come to my room. you look annoyed. i already told you that i don't want to go on vacation because i'm poor. i already told you that i care more about my mom and my career than i will ever care about you. why did you think this would change? you knew this from the beginning. you want to help the world but you don't have time for critical race theory. you think that talking to homeless people for a school project is "fun" and "exciting". you're here at this institution with all these opportunities to learn and all you want to do is get out of here as fast as you can so you can go work for some big fucking company with some big fucking benefits so you can travel a whole lot and eat $30 meals every day. all you want to do is come up with all these fucking theoretical solutions. and host events where super rich privileged kids can flock together and come up with more theoretical solutions to "real world problems". you all love thinking about poor people around the world like we are just some concept or some fucking problem to fix. i'm so tired of feeling angry around you all the time. it's not my job to educate you. not anymore
sex SEX sex sex sex sex sex SEX sex SEX Sex SEX SEX SEX sex sex SEX SEX
Consume sex
Sex Sex
sex
SEX s e x
sex
SEX
1. Wait, did you really just say that? 2. Oh my god, you really did just say that to my face. 3. Wait, do you realize how that made me feel? 4. Why didn't you think about that before you said it? 5. Are you sorry that you said it? 6. Do you realize why that upset me? 7. If not, are you willing to learn? 8. What will you do to keep learning and prevent yourself from doing that again? 9. Are you going to recognize when others around you are also doing what you just did? 10. Are you going to help them learn as well?
Warning: This person will know themself best. They will know what terms they are comfortable with using. They will know how they want to describe themself. Maybe they don't know yet. Still. Do not try to define their identity for them.
IÂ have missed out on my entire life, trying to please people and
pretending that I am pleased.
Woman/Girl
Resilient.
Immiscible I’m trying to learn if there’s a difference between sharing and performing. Between self-expression and buying into a system of self repression. I’m wondering if there isn’t. If they just melt into each other, like how two oceans are just the same body of water, shifting. Like every time I share a piece of my art, I am also asking for validation from those who watch. If I put up a painting in an abandoned warehouse on a deserted highway, will I be able to feel like I did something that mattered? Or will it crumble away like sand through fingers that can’t hold on tight enough? Will my words fade away into oblivion, sucked into a black hole, cease to exist, if there are no ear drums for them to bounce off of, accepting the beating of my existence? If I am happy, and I let 500 faceless entities on my phone know, am I somehow not truly enjoying the moment I am in? If I am sad, and I choose to bury this inside me, is it okay if I ask you not to go searching for a hidden treasure inside me? All you will find is sand anyways. I am learning to not hold on. To let go. I want to feel something real so bad. I put my thoughts onto a canvas, inside a glass box, and I write a sign. “Please do not touch. Only look.”
* content warning: sexual assault I wish my experiences were like a word document Copy and paste a long walk on the beach highlight a sunset right by the water next to the boy who calms your soul cut the moment where you lay in a dark room with a boy on top of you cut the moment where his breath smelled like smoke and his lips tasted like vodka cut to the moment you kicked him off you undo delete delete delete highlight the moment you started bursting into tears indent to one, two hours, three hours, four Let’s add a list. Reasons why you need to drop him: 1) he isn’t worth your time 2) you’re not the only girl he’s said that to before 3) he would rather like the idea of you than actually get to know you Wait. Copy and paste to the time you knew of boys who actually loved you inside and out but you were still unsatisfied forward to the part where you break their hearts strike-through. You were being independent. You were being strong. You were brave. No. Italics and bold. You are brave. You are kind. You are caring. You are beautiful. You are so beautiful. Cut to when another boy lies in bed with you and tells you you have beautiful eyes, teeth, hair, and legs. What about my name? What about your name? Cut the part where he does not remember your name. Cut to cut to cut to not remembering the rest of the night cut to waking up the next morning, alone. Refresh the page and find that once again, you are alone. Alone alone alone. File, options, Delete.
not alone.
February 7th, 2016 I went to my Biology teacher’s office hours at 9:30 and she was super nice and helpful. We went over the practice exam and problem set together, and she was really impressed with me. She said that not many students could figure out this one problem I worked out, and that for the pre-class questions, sometimes I’m the only one who will get a certain question right. She said I’m a really strong student, and I just felt so proud. I mumbled thank you really softly and smiled, while avoiding eye contact.
April _ , 2018 I went to my professor's office. Actually no, I was planning on going to someone else's office, and I passed by her office. I didn't plan on staying for that long. She gave me a hug and asked how I was doing. That's all it took. I couldn't lie to her face, so I just started crying. I told her about things that were going on in life and how stressed I was about school projects. And people. And how I'm so scared of how much I care. She sat me down and listened to me. She told me that she wishes she could say that it gets better and things change. She said they don't actually change when you get older. People will still disappoint you. But you learn where to give and take, and which things are worth it.
October 4th, 2018 I told my professor that I didn't understand why they picked me to be on this committee and give my opinions on such an important decision. I am just a student. I don't really know anything. My professor said that they chose me because they value me. She said that the department values me also. She told me she nominated me to be a Biology Liaison and that she believes in me. I smiled for the rest of lunch.
I wish more professors realized that they have the power to change a student's life forever.
I swear I'm really not that angry. Actually, if I were the five stages of grief, then I would jump right ahead to acceptance. Skip the denial, anger, bargaining, and (maybe) depression.Â
What's the point?
Bisexual/Queer/Polyam
revolutionary.
-Adela Licona, “The Role of Imagination in Challenging Everyday Dominations: Articulation at Work in Producing Antiracist Egalitarian Social Agendas�
So I have a thought. A simple curiosity. And then another thought stems from that thought. And then I worry. And soon enough, I have a whole tree of thoughts that I can’t keep track of. And it’s growing where it shouldn’t be. And also, it’s on fire. And so is the rest of the world.
I should stop writing poetry only when I feel hurt or angry.
Good things that happened to me since coming to college: I have reinforced the fact that I am very very queer and it feels so good and validating to be around other queer people all the time. Realizing that I don't need to dress or look a certain way just to validate my identity. Knowing that I deserve help. I should ask for help. In fact, I won't be able to survive without help. I found a community that loves and supports me. Makes me laugh. Laughs at my jokes. Shares my pain with me. Accepts me. Does not question me. Helps me learn. Helps me hold myself accountable. Helps me realize that family can be chosen. I have made so much cool art!!! Even though it doesn't feel like it. I look back and I'm like wow I did all that. Some people have told me that I inspire them??? (?) ? !! I found love. I learned how to cook a traditional Vietnamese dish. Learning how to address my friends' problematic behavior without completely shutting them down. I created something with others who share the same identities as me, and it's so beautiful! I have shared my poetry. And people liked it. They told me personally, to my face. Even after it was over. I was a mentor, and then my mentees are now mentors. And it feels like leaving behind a legacy (?) I am still here.
"You can wear spiritual symbolism, preach the wisest words, and create metaphysical art, but if you do not display that within your actions what good is it worth?"
Asian/American Asian-American Asian American Asian
American
- King-Kok Cheung, Articulate Silences
"Cá không ăn muối cá ươn, Con cãi cha mẹ trăm đường con hư" -tục ngữ
Unsalted fish will go bad. Children that argue with parents have one hundred ways to be wrong. - Vietnamese proverb
Con thương mẹ. Không có ai có lòng thương như mẹ. Không có ai trên thế giới gánh nặng như mẹ. Không có ai có lòng từ bi như mẹ. Cám ơn mẹ đả hy sinh tất cả cho con cái mẹ. Con sẽ mãi mãi biết ơn. I love you, mom. No one else has a loving soul like yours. No one else in this world carries as heavy of burdens as you. No one else has compassion like you. Thank you mom for all that you have sacrificed for your children. I will always be thankful. Please don't be disappointed in me.
Xin mẹ đừng bao giờ thất lòng vì con.
things I (almost) forgot.
jumping on the couch Heineken a bottle flying through the air yelling calling 911 a split eyebrow Cây roi mây being scared being questioned a scar driving backwards up the freeway exit embarrassment the phone is unplugged they took him away don't tell anyone at school we are different fighting constant fighting shattered dishes uncontrollable anger smashed laptops confusion
"Blood (of the covenant) is thicker than water (of the womb)"
I wish... I wish...
Asian Americans should not have to prove their "Americanness" by distancing themselves as far as possible from their ancestral cultures. Trying to be American by going against what is stereotypically Asian only reinforces the norm dictated by the dominant culture.
Lover. Fighter. Mentor. Friend. Artist.
&
Learner. Teacher. Listener. Writer.
Leader. Healer. Daughter. Ally.