Intersectionality existed in my body before I knew the word. My body understood living at the crossroads of identities while my tongue still only spoke of monosyllabic, phonetic viet words. And in my body intersectionality has felt different as I learned to be honest and honor myself in my complexities – bridge the silence between privilege and oppressed identities. I do not seek to hold intersectionality in my body as a simple, exclusive reflection of my hurt: I want it to be as complex and ever evolving as my body, identity, relationship to history and responsibility to my visions and the visions of others for liberation.
Y'ALL: what does intersectionality feel like in your body?
Urban Farm Cooperative In New Orleans Helps Fill A Void
“NOLA East is home to nearly 60% of the metro area’s population,” Nguyen explained, glancing down at his rubber boots. “But we’ve got only one supermarket.”
When the farm took hold, the community had been looking for innovative strategies to bolster economic resilience. At the time, things were looking bleak, even for a community that had been living on the fringes for years. Katrina struck in 2005, and when British Petroleum’s rig started leaking into the Gulf in 2010, the community’s strongest resource — both in terms of food and income — became off limits almost overnight.
#TYMom: cám ơn mẹ // cám ơn má
Finding The Fierce Gaysian Within by Hung An Nguyen (via soylgbtq)
April 9 Poem by CVL
when we give a different name
to suffering it makes us feel better;
the viet cong were bad
the south tried to be good
my lai was a mistake
soldiers died
viet cong
the south
my lai
south
$100
viet
v.c.
and
the war,
the war
