it's all come undone

I can tell you stories of how they struggled to establish a cultural identity here.
I can tell you about the golden mountain
the broken windows, empty promises
$500.
I can tell you about the smells of the temple, and the bbq duck displayed behind window cases.
I can tell you about the hissing,
the derogatory slurs in The Vancouver Sun
headlining, "go back home chink-gook eyes".
It wasn't unusual to be spat at, shoved aside, placed last.
Inferior race, it's always the hardest step.

Looking at it all now, I don't even know where I belong because apparently the past never mattered, the struggle meant nothing. English isn't even my first language... but I've forgotten my native tongue. I've never even taken a sticker photo before. I've never hung out at asian malls with huge groups of friends. I've never ever done these bubble-tea outings before. I know nothing about my culture.

just tradition
under rug swept.
I'd be willing to show and share too but -
Listening, it's always the hardest step.