WAANT Stories

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Storycollecter: Syeda Zainab Kazmi
Storyteller (pseudonym): Zohra
Character Sketch: South Asian Female, Immigrant, In her early 20s
Description: A letter to her younger self, recollecting.
Trigger Warning: Violence, oppression

Remember

Dear me from the past 10 years,
Remember the time you returned to our birth country, from our first visit to
America? You were so eager to go back to Chicago. And remember the disappointment you
felt when visa issues forced our family to stay in South Asia? You thought this was it, you
would never be able to move to The US. But our parents hadn’t given up, so you didn’t
either!
But remember the morning you saw that car on fire, at a riot on your way to school?
Remember hearing about relatives and family friends being persecuted and/or killed
because of their religious beliefs or political views? Remember fearing for your parents’
safety as they left for work during times of political unrest?
Remember wondering if you were even going to live long enough to get to America?
Remember thinking, if only you were in America you wouldn’t have to worry about your
safety?
And then after four long years, our family immigrated to The US. Our parent’s
lifelong goal, to make America a permanent home, finally achieved! Remember thinking you
would have no more worries? You would be free to go where you want to go, do what you
want to do, and be who you want to be. You no longer needed to hide your identity.
That was until you started attending middle school and trying to fit in, and that
familiar feeling of anxiety returned.
Remember wanting but failing to find people like you? A friend? Remember dreading
lunchtime because you had no one to sit with? Remember missing friends and cousins, back
home, every day?
And when our little sister also started struggling with making friends at her new
school. Remember ignoring your own emotions, and focusing on her? Remember feeling
guilty for the times you felt okay because she wasn’t? Remember wondering if it would have
been better to stay in our home country? Remember pushing those thoughts away? Telling
yourself that these problems are nothing compared to what you faced back home. Remember
telling yourself to just focus on doing well in school? Remember wanting to lift some of the
burdens off your parents’ backs? I remember how hard those times were.
Nevertheless…
Remember the time you made our first friend in America? Remember being able to
safely drive around the city, even after dusk? Remember having the opportunity to move
downtown for college? Remember finding a bit of community there? Remember going to the
mosque with lesser fear of persecution? Remember all the peaceful Eids you spent with
family in The US? Remember planning for our future?
I hope that along with all the regrets of leaving our home country, you remember all
the joys moving to Chicago has brought us.
Love,
Older you

Storycollecter: Jill Patel
Storyteller (pseudonym): Mai
Trigger Warning: Depression and Suicidal Thoughts
Artist: Jill Patel
Short Description: Letters addressed to Priya, tell the story of her journey with mental health.

Letters to the Years

Dear Myself,
Growing up with a lot of men, it was hard to find role models for us. They became our
models of behavior. However, being tradition South-Indian Asian men, they always bottled their
emotions and these feelings became hard to express. I was drowning in sadness and depression.
No one talked about mental health or feelings, and it became a learned behavior. The fire had
singed us, but now the water was making it hard to breath.
“Do you ever see someone and think “Wow, God must hate me”. ‘Cause He spent so
much time on them and for me, He got lazy. Got ample mental illness personality flaws. While
their only flaw seems to be is that they have none at all” -God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner
Everything was a trigger: seeing a TV show, social media, or someone else talk about
suicide. It feels like you are experiencing it with them. It feels like it always coming back. I was
trying to swim to the surface to catch my breath only to never reach it. I remembered when we
tried to tell a friend, thinking it would be different. But, we were ignored. We were dismissed.
Once again, an attempt to express ourselves failed. This further pushed us into thinking it was
normal for others to react like that, and it was normal to not talk about emotions or mental health.
“Cold bones, yeah, that’s my love. She hides away, like a ghost. Ooh, does she know that
we bleed the same? Ooh, don’t wanna cry but I break that way” – Where’s My Love by SYML
But don’t you worry past self because therapy, future friends, and family will become the
life vest keeping us afloat. We we learn that it is okay to talk, it is okay to cry, it is okay to not
always feel the best. But the difference is we won’t be drowning anymore. We can finally
breathe. I am not saying it will always feel that way but just like a wave, we will go up and down
and follow the current.
Love,
Myself

Storycollecter, Teller, & Artist: Samia Aljaradat
Trigger Warning: Mental Health, Grief, Racism, Violence
Short Description: A Muslim Cashier faces racism during one of her shifts because she’s wearing a hijab.

A Muslim Cashier

Short Description: A Muslim Cashier faces racism during one of her shifts because she’s wearing a hijab.

• Link to Story Video

Storycollecter: Shadia
Storyteller (pseudonym): Jules
Character Sketch:
(pronouns she/her), early 20’s, is a Palestinian Asian American living in the
US.
Trigger Warning: Mental health, illness, grief, and loss
Context: Jules is sharing the story of her sister Mariam (pseudonym), and the emotions and experiences she endured throughout her sister’s life and after her passing.

Mariam

Short Description: Through a video production, Jules wishes to use this story to support others who have lost a loved one and provide comforting words of hope and resilience.

• Link to Story Video

Storycollecter: Kathryn Smith
Storyteller (pseudonym): Nina Phetchanpheng
Character Sketch:
• Age: 30s
• Country of Birth: Illinois, United States
• Ethnicity/Nationality: Laos. Laotian
• Siblings: 3
• Relationship Status: Boyfriend, Domestic Partner
• Languages Spoken: Fluent in English, Some Laotian
Trigger Warning: Anxiety and Depression
Short Description: This is a story about a woman who was raised by immigrant parents from Laos and how she
always wished to live for who they wanted her to be and her quest to be an individual.

Follow My Heart

Nina
I have always had to tell people how to pronounce my name. It’s a characteristic of being
Southeast Asian… there’s a lot of silent letters. (pronounce phonetically)
…Phetchanpheng…As a kid I was constantly having to correct people, it became routine to
how I introduced myself. The more you hear and explain your last name it loses its
meaning…when did I lose my relationship to my last name? …Mostly-it reminded me that I
am different…
I have always followed my heart. In the winter when the snow trickles, I am reminded of my
Father. Coming from a tropical climate, the first time my father saw snow, he thought it was
confetti! He thought a party was being thrown! The youngest of ten children, my father
came to the States through a sponsorship with a Christian family. My father became a flight
attendant so we traveled more freely than most people. It felt good to travel back to my
roots, to Laos. The country is not dependent on English…I have to wing it over there…it is
freeing. The bursts of citrus, the saltiness of the seafood… smells of umami and spice. Laos is
full of fish and fermentation, chili, fresh vegetables and hearty tropical seafood and spice! No
subtlety in Southeast Asia, lots of citrus and lots of spice!
A nice carpeted floor offers comfort for me. Asian cultures are comfortable on the floor. I
feel safe being in close proximity to the kitchen, that’s where the action happens. Social
activity takes place, you don’t have to participate but you can be near it. Ambient music
plays in the background, the banter of people, the orange and yellow as the fire flickers
nearby…
As a child I was academically advanced, I always would be awarded stickers and on the fast-
track to honors classes. I was an avid reader and I always had a natural gift. I needed to repay
the debt to my parents for the sacrifice they had made. My mother was separated from her
immediate family at sixteen, she immigrated to Texas…she would cry every night because
people made fun of her for not knowing English…she gained strength from this time and
went back to get her education. Today, my mother teaches English. She holds a Senior
position at a big name firm. I took it for granted as a kid.. I wanted kraft mac and
cheese…My mother would make me extravagant lunches, gorgeous croissant sandwiches,
chopped vegetables…anyone else could see how much she cared, to me, I was embarrassed to
be different.
Laos is a mostly Buddhist country, my mother would teach us about Buddhist values. We
would go to the temple every week…my mother was cautious not to push religion on us, she
taught us being Buddhsit is a great way to live a moral and good life. As I grew up, I gained
independence, I moved into city life seven years ago. Although I am miles away, I am still
connected to my roots. I follow my head…I think logically…I long to be successful in
achieving the idea of the” American dream” my parents believed in… but, more…I long to
learn how to follow my heart.

Storycollecter: Jasmine Doan
Storyteller (pseudonym): Kevin N
Character Sketch:
Male (he/him), Vietnamese American, 3 sisters and 2 half sisters (he is the middle child),
currently in the US Marines, black short hair, 5’10”
Trigger Warning: Mental Health
Short Description: This story reflects on opportunities and embracing yourself when others push you to be someone else.

You Are Your Biggest Obstacle

When looking back at my childhood, I remember it as a flurry of changes. It was a time where I
was very confused and surrounded by negative emotions. I was in 4th grade when my parents
had started a process of a very extensive and bitter divorce. There were no signs or hints that I
saw that could have led to this because I had been living a very ordinary life with my 3 sisters up
until then. So when all this conflict between my parents had erupted, I didn’t know exactly how
to feel. Instead, I let people tell me how I should. When I was told that my father had an affair
with my mother, I was unsure of how to feel towards my father. I was told by my mother that I
should forget I ever had a father and that I should show him nothing but spite when he tries to
interact with us. I could see how the betrayal hurt my mother deeply and it was very unsettling
for me. I love my mother very dearly and I wanted nothing more than to alleviate her pain, but as a
10 year old kid, I don’t know how to do that. So I thought it was best to follow her instructions
to shut my father out and learn how to live without him. As a kid, I didn’t understand how big of a
transition being a single parent was going to be for my mother. The battle for custody for the 4 of
us was relentless: there were many court dates we had to attend and many mandatory hang
outs with our father that the court ordered. While with him, he was sympathetic and expressed
his sorrow for how we shouldn’t have to experience any of the fallout. But as a kid, it was black
and white for me – my father had betrayed my mother, and if he was really sorry he would’ve
gotten back with her. My mother had already planted many ideas and emotions into us before
meeting with him so we all had steel walls keeping him from having a meaningful conversation
with us. I didn’t realize how wrong and manipulative my mother’s actions were at the time. I had
a right to a relationship with my father, but my mother was hurt too deeply and she didn’t want us
to do anything with the man who had shattered her heart.
This heavily impacted my time during highschool. At this point, I stopped caring. My
performance and schoolwork began to decline. I started to hang with my friends a lot more and
neglected my main responsibilities but foremost my education. When my mother got my report
card, she became more upset and distraught. She did what she could as a parent. She
punished me by taking away privileges and when that didn’t work, we sat down to have a one
on one talk. But I had already placed this wall between us and always brushed it off as “Oh it’s not
that serious, I’ll make up my grades towards the end and pass by the end of the year.” I always
told myself this to excuse my lack of effort, but it backfired and I dug myself in a pit and I didn’t
have enough rope to pull myself out. I ended up failing my class freshman year and had to go to
summer school for it. This news highly alarmed my mother and she was disappointed in me. She
pleaded with me to tell her what was going on and to let her help if she could. But the thing was, I
don’t believe there was anything she could have done because I was too stubborn and ignorant to
see I was setting myself up for failure. I knew I was going down a path that limited my options and
every time I told myself I’d eventually turn around I found myself further down the road.
Sophomore year goes by, and I barely scraped by with Ds and a couple of Cs. Junior year comes
and I get caught in a bad cycle of ditching classes or sometimes outright ditching school. My
Mom confronted me but I lied and said “Oh I was only late” or “I guess the teacher didn’t see
me”. I don’t think she ate a word of it and deep down hoped it was only temporary because she
didn’t know what was going on and had already tried everything she could. I knew she was at
her last resort when she even got my Dad to call me. But with him, my responses were even
more distant and laced with bitterness. I told him “Why does it matter to you, you left us in the
first place.” After refusing support from others and refusing to help myself, I eventually stopped
going to school and became a dropout. This took a big toll on my relationship with my mother
and she was furious at what I was doing to myself and kept our interactions to a minimum –
avoiding conversation with me because of her hurt.
A couple of weeks passed, and a school counselor got in touch with me and offered me this
opportunity to get back on track and go to an alternative high school. A place where the hours
were shorter and flexible, the workload was self-paced, and I could still get a diploma, just that it
wouldn’t look good on a college resume. It was still a golden lifeline for me and since I had no
plan, I made the smart decision and seized the chance. My mother was delighted when she
found out I was going to attend, not knowing such a program existed, and begged for me to
stick to it. And I did… at first. I did stellar the first few months, was spot on with attendance and
assignments. I was being the student I should have been from the beginning. Sadly it was only
temporary because old habits came knocking again. I would come in late, and shortly after I
turned in late assignments. Then I took advantage of the limited days they allowed us to excuse
ourselves per month. I went over the limit and before I knew it everything snowballed and I was
dropped from the program.
This was the point where my mother lost hope in me, and what sucks is that she blamed herself
for my failure. I had been given a second chance and I tossed it right out the window. It’s not like
I didn’t have any remorse in hurting my mother like that, cause she had only ever had good
intentions for me. But my self-sabotage didn’t involve her at all and I hope she knows that. At that
point I knew I was still descending further down the pit, I was angry with myself for all of it but I
didn’t have the right mindset to change it. I felt like I was driving straight towards a cliff, but
I could only watch from the passenger side.
Months go by where I’m just out a lot trying to avoid the tension at home, whether that be work
or hanging with my friends. I thought my minimum wage job as a barista was enough to get me
by until I came up with a better plan. I thought I didn’t need school and could find a way to make
it on my own, which I realized after is only plausible if you have a plan and the work ethic to get
there – neither of which I possessed. My friends would try to understand what was going on with
me too but I told them the same lie I told to myself, “I don’t know, I guess school just isn’t for me,
but I’ll figure it all out eventually.” I was running in place with no destination. This went on for a
few more months until one day while playing basketball, I got a phone call from an unknown
number. I assumed every unknown number was a scam, so I was very tempted to ignore the
call and carry on with my game. But I am very grateful that I decided to cast a line in the lake
and pick up, because I reeled in an opportunity that changed my life.
I hear someone on the other line ask “Is this Kevin Nguyen?” I answer “Yes it is” and the person
introduces themself as a recruiter for the United States Marine Corps. I thought to myself “Oh
great, a solicitor for Uncle Sam” and was thinking of ways to politely decline. So after asking me a
few screening questions like if I had tattoos or did I ever use substances, which to both I
answered no. He then started prying about my education, asking why I had stopped going to
school. It had been a while since I had reflected on that subject, after telling myself so many
different reasons I had kind of forgotten, so I said “I don’t know”. He then told me the blatant truth
that I had been neglecting for so long; I was limiting my options in my future by not
completing school. He asked me about the last school I had been attending, and he said he was
very familiar with the alternative high school I had been dropped from. He then asked me to come
to the physical office the next day to see about getting me back in school. After having no solid
plan for so long I agreed it was time to once again take another shot at school. Next morning
comes and I have doubts about going to the office, not sure if I could follow through, also well
aware that it was a recruiting ploy. But after a long deliberation I decided I was going to flow with
the river for a bit. I show up and my recruiter Mr. Johnson immediately gets to business and drives
me to the school which I had been dropped from. The school had a very strict
re-acceptance policy in which they rarely ever take back dropped students without good reason,
and seeing that I was dropped due to my own incompetence, I would normally not get
considered. Mr. Johnson pulled a few strings and got me back on the program. I was
surprisingly relieved, I had yet been thrown another lifeline. A skeptical voice in me wondered if I
would hold on this time. I thanked Mr.Johnson and he told me “Thank yourself, you’re the one
that’s going to turn your life around”. He said it with such certainty that it caught me off guard.
He then invited me to the physical training sessions in which other potential recruits which they
called poolees participated in twice a week. After my first one I realized how out of shape I was
regardless of all the basketball I played. It was like PE class on crack, you were pushing yourself
till you were gassed and then they would kick it up another notch. I would tell myself
multiple times through the workout “Ok that’s all I got, I’m done” but everytime the other poolees
would come over and motivate me, run alongside me and not allow me to quit. And for the first
time in my life, after things got rough and wasn’t going my way I still didn’t give up on myself.
Those poolees I met there were very good-natured towards each other and also strangers like
me. I became very close to many and they kept me coming back no matter how much my body
cursed me for it. There was an unmatched sense of self accomplishment and confidence that I
felt after every session. At school, I was doing well again for a while, but it wasn’t too surprising
when my old habit came knocking again and I cut my first day. What was surprising was when I
got a call from Mr.Johnson at the end of that day telling me if he hears I cut again, he was going
to start coming to my house every morning to personally drag me to school. I thought about the
image of a big brawny Marine coming to my house and pounding on my door startling my Mom,
and that did the trick and stopped me from ever cutting again. After breaking the news to my
Mom that I was in the Marine Corps’ poolee program, she was alarmed and concerned for my
safety. I explained to her what Mr.Johnson told me, that times were different and that I wasn’t
going to be sent to any frontlines if I chose any job besides infantry. I told her I intended to be a
mechanic but she was still doubtful. I guess she only let me go along with it because it was
keeping me in school. A few months later, I achieved a milestone which others and myself were
unsure I would ever reach – my high school diploma. Not too long after I got processed and
shipped off to boot camp, where I was broken down and built back up for the better. I went
through struggles and challenges that made me realize what I found difficult before was actually
trivial. I made a bond with people there that was thicker than blood, I was told while there that
“Blood only makes you related, but loyalty makes you family” and I quickly came to understand
that. Everyone there was hurting the same, missing people they had left behind, and constantly
questioning their capabilities. But never did we allow each other to throw in the towel and if
someone needed a break, we’d carry their burden, emotionally and literally. I developed qualities
that allowed me to make changes in my life and look out for others. Application of these qualities
didn’t stop after boot camp. I practice them to this day, whether it’s at work or in
my everyday life. After the first time I came home on leave, I noticed not much had changed, but
the way I approached things was different. I didn’t put things off anymore, I acted like it was now
or never, because what I’m not changing, I’m choosing. I wasn’t scared to take on responsibility
and owned up to it if I messed up. I viewed my failures as one more step towards success. A
quote I remember from my drill instructor that is chiseled deep in me is, “It’s hard to put in the
work to be great, but it’s harder to know you could’ve been great”. I gained the courage to try and
patch things with my father and now we have a great relationship and in addition 2 incredible
half-sisters. I am now confident that I can care for my family and my mother
expresses how proud she is of me when I see her. Looking back at my past relationship with my
mother, I wanted to be angry at her putting me through this, but at the same time I understand
why she did it. It stemmed from the good intentions of her wanting to protect her children
because she didn’t believe my Dad was capable of caring for us at all. I have never held it
against her, if anything it’s one of the reasons why I would lay everything I have down for her if
need be. She gave me comfort and it wasn’t home without her. I’m glad my siblings and I
unanimously agreed we wanted to stay with our mother during the court trial. To Mr. Johnson, I
let him know how grateful I was for him, even if he was just doing his job, he impacted my life
positively. He told me that almost all the credit goes to myself, that I was the one who walked into
the office and got myself to the point where I was. Some of you may be thinking that this is some
recruitment ad but I promise you it’s not, I’m just sharing my journey of personal growth and
development and the military just happened to be the catalyst for me. If you want to make a big
change in your life, don’t expect it to come first-try.

Storycollecter: Phoenix Nguyen
Storyteller (pseudonym): TOO
Character Sketch:
• 28 y/o Male
• Half Vietnamese & half Hispanic
• Height – 5’11, Weight – 165lbs
Trigger Warning: Mental Health
Short Description: A short narrative detailing the story of an artist navigating his creative passion in a daunting society, while struggling to build a relationship with his family and loved ones.

In the back of My Mind

TOO grew up in an impoverished, crime-filled neighborhood in the Southside of Chicago.
Throughout his entire childhood, TOO was often bullied because his family was unable to get
him the newest or latest clothing or shoes. Classmates would bully him because TOO often wore
the same pair of shoes until the sole of the shoes lifted and tore apart. Because his dad was the
sole breadwinner in a family of six members, TOO often was neglected and did not receive any
attention, love or support from his parents growing up. Living in his neighborhood, TOO often
witnessed many gang-related activities and crimes taken place. He was always peer-pressured
to join a gang, but TOO always believed that he was different, and he was ambitious enough to
believe he can reach for more. In high school, TOO was approached by a group of friends during
lunchtime who all asked if he would like to be a member of their street art club. They explained
that their form of creative expression primarily involves graffiti and tagging. Ever since that day
when TOO accepted their invitation to join the graffiti art club, TOO’s interest in art piqued and
decided that he wanted to someday become a great artist who produces some of the most
inspiring work of arts. After discovering art, TOO practiced it every day and developed his own
style.
As TOO got older, he became less and less communicative with his parents and family members.
All his time was spent locked in his room, with his headphones wrapped snugly over his ears,
and TOO would block out the world while he immerses in his own creative world. Sometimes his
parents would get frustrated with TOO because they try to knock on his room to ask to speak to
him, but TOO would not hear the knocking and would only step out of his room when he
absolutely needs to. This non-communicative dynamic went on for years, and TOO became more
quieter, spoke less, and he felt isolated from the people and world around him. TOO thought he
was happy to be left alone to do whatever he wanted, which was to create art. But eventually
he felt inadequate and indecent because in the back of his mind, he craves support,
understanding, and love from his parents, family, and loved ones. TOO is aware that his parents
and family does not support his passion to make art as a full-time career, because he is aware
that in today’s competitive society, artists rarely make any real income from selling artworks.
Although family disapproves, TOO adamantly pursues art and hope to become a successful
artist one day.
The bulk of time TOO spent alone isolated in his room, he felt depressed and misunderstood, by
his own family and mainly his dad. TOO respects his dad and craves for understanding and
support from his old man, but they often share conflicting viewpoints on many aspects in life.
The turbulent relationship between TOO and his father made him feel very lonely, and often
made him feel very insecure about his perception of himself, as a son and a struggling artist.
TOO still never gave up his dreams on becoming a great artist because he believes in himself
and his talents and is willing to bet on himself.

WAANT
Phoenix Nguyen