28 February 1899

I can’t talk to my parents; they just don’t understand me anymore. They are so dense. Brother has an easy life in America- he does not get picked on at school for the clothes he wears, he does not have to worry about disappointing the family, he does not have to come right after school to help mom with house chores. I’ve decided that instead of keeping everything inside of me, I would vent through paper; words that my parents will never hear nor uncover. Some American girls are so spoiled and mean. I hate them. Yesterday at school, I heard this white girl telling my other classmates that my family and I live in a dirty alley and are homeless. Instead of standing up for myself, I just sat in seat quietly, with my eyes looking down at the floor. It’s all my mom’s fault for letting this happen. Mom believes in many of the Chinese ‘old wives tales’. I am only allowed to wash my hair once a week because she said that if I wash my head too often, I will get headaches when I get older. So, my hair often stinks up the whole classroom and everyone starts pointing fingers at me. Uck, two more days and then I can wash my hair again. It’s not fair how some girls in class get to wear all these nice dresses and clothes to school. Mom believes in being practical. I’m only given one pair of shoes and 5 dresses, which must last me a whole year. I often feel left out when girls talk in class because I don’t keep up with the latest fads. Dad keeps telling me about how fortunate I am to be born in Hawaii- I probably would’ve been put up for adoption if I had been born in China. Or if they had decided to keep me, mom probably would’ve pulled me out of school by now if we were in China and kept me at home to learn how to be a ‘proper’ housewife. My lifestyle would’ve been altered completely.