“Never forget: you cannot choose ethnic identities.”
Because they choose you.
They are written into your bones
before you learn to speak.
In lullabies your grandmother hummed
and in the silence your parents carried.
They are not costumes,
not trends,
not something to wear and take off
as the world changes.
They are memory.
They are pain and pride.
They are exile and belonging.
Even if the world tells you to forget—
your blood remembers.