I met poet Nellie Wong in 1994 when I was riding the hotel shuttle to Cornell University.  I was nervous when she said, oh, I was planning to attend your session.  This was my second academic presentation -  first at a national conference.  She was an established poet and feminist writer.  She was engaging, kind, and so supportive of our work.  She autographed her book of poems, The Death of the Long Steamed Lady, for me.  At the time, I didn't know there were Asian American women poets and writers, and she made a huge impact on me. Her poem is powerful and presents a different perspective not often voiced.  And though written years ago,  it continues to ring true for me today.

WHERE IS MY COUNTRY

Where is my country?

Where does it lie?

The 4^th of July approaches

and I am asked for firecreackers.

Is it because of my skin color?

Surely not because of my

husband’s name.

In these skyways

I dart in and out.

One store sells rich ice cream

and I pick bittersweet nuggets.

In the office someone asks me

to interpret Korean,

My own Cantonese netted

in steel, my own saliva.

Where is my country?

Where does it lie?

Tucked between boundaries

striated between dark dance floors

and whispering lanterns

Smoking of indistinguishable features?

Channeled in the white businessman

who discovers that I do not sound Chinese?

Garbled in a white woman

who tells me I speak perfect English?

Webbed in another

Who tells me I speak with an accent?

Where is my country?

Where does it lie?

Now the dress designers flood us

with the Chinese look,

Quilting our bodies in satin

stitching our eyes with silk.

Where is my country?

Where does it lie?

                                                Nellie Wong,  the Death of Long Steam Lady, 1984