-blackvalleygirls- Honey Gold - Blasians Like I... -

But being just anything was impossible when you were Blasian in the Black Valley. The older women would cup her face and say, “Pretty, but she got that look—not quite ours.” The Vietnamese aunties at the nail salon would whisper in rapid-fire Cantonese: Too tall, too loud, too Black. Honey learned early that belonging was a language she’d have to invent herself.

Blasians like I—we don’t say goodbye We take both worlds and we multiply -BlackValleyGirls- Honey Gold - Blasians Like I...

Every August, the Black Valley threw a block party called the Gold Rush. Fried fish, spades tournaments, and a makeshift stage where anyone could perform. That year, Honey decided she would sing. Not a cover—an original. A song about being too much and not enough, about having two bloodlines and nowhere to plant a flag. But being just anything was impossible when you

Later, as the fireworks cracked green and gold over the creek, Honey sat alone for a moment. The gold chain at her neck felt warm, like it remembered being placed there by unseen hands. Blasians like I—we don’t say goodbye We take

My mama’s rice field, my daddy’s blues They ask me to choose, I refuse to lose Black in the front, Asian in the back They see a puzzle, I see a fact