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  • Asian Pacific American Heritage Month: Childhood Stories

    Asian Pacific American Heritage Month: Childhood Stories

    By: Lexi Plumley

    As a Filipino American, there weren’t a lot of Filipino children’s books. There were books that had our folk tales and certain ghost stories, but they weren’t for children. Aunties and uncles would tell you these stories, grandparents would tell you these stories verbally, but there weren’t really any, physical picture books when I was growing up in the 90s. I do remember there were two instances where I ended up reading the same book during different times in my life.

    I don’t think there was a single physical book that I ever got to read throughout my entire childhood that had to do with anything of Asian descent. Everything was white or black. I read a lot of black children’s stories growing up, but I didn’t get to read anything whatsoever from my Filipino heritage. [Storytelling] was done through family members or other Filipino people who also had the same type of stories, just told differently. Again, they’re all folk tales from our culture.

    I was in fifth grade and heard somebody read this book called, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes by Eleanor Coerr. It’s a Japanese children’s book about the events that happened in Hiroshima, where a bunch of kids who had radiation poisoning were in hospitals. There are a lot of terrible things [in the story], but it was painted very beautifully. The book is about a girl who got very, very sick. In Japanese culture, if you make a thousand paper cranes, you get to make a wish. I remember reading that when I was in fifth grade, and I thought the story was wonderful. It was the first time I’d seen an Asian person in a book. I was like, “This is wild!”

    In seventh grade, in junior high, I took a creative writing class, and they read the exact same book. As we were reading the book and learning the history about those events, we were supposed to make a thousand cranes to then send to Japan. This was to put the cranes at her monument because she was a real person who went through these things. She was trying to make the thousand cranes, but didn’t end up finishing them before she passed on. I think her classmates and things decided to make that monument, and there’s a giant statue of her holding a paper crane in that city.

    Every year for the anniversary of either her death or the events that happened, people bring a bunch of paper cranes to the monument and place them there. That’s what we did as a group of eight 12-year-olds. We made a thousand paper cranes. Our creative writing teacher, Mr. Jacobs, sent them to Japan.

    They [the people of Hiroshima] sent us back a letter and a picture of our cranes sitting at this at the base of the monument. Sadako became my favorite book. It is something that I always suggested to people. When I was a preschool teacher, I read it to my kids even though they were way too young to really understand the gravitas of the book. The fact is that there wasn’t any Asian representation in my class, so as a teacher, so I wanted to present that to the kids. I showed them how to make paper cranes.

    I’ve talked to a lot of other Filipino friends of mine that are all in the same age range. We all read that same book. Sadako is the first Asian book that we ever read growing up, and we’re all in our mid-thirties now.

    I didn’t start really seeing books about Filipino children or Filipino culture until I was in college. I think the first one was the most famous Filipino American children book, Cora Cooks Pancit, by Dorina Lazo Gilmore. I was 18 or 19 at the time.

    I have to look and see where Asian stories are in our library system, because we should have more of those. I’ve seen ones explaining Lunar New Year, but there should be more books, more children’s books, especially for Filipino Americans. I feel like we have a lot more Chinese, Japanese, and Thailand books, and ones from India too. We’re lacking in the Filipino department, and it makes me sad.

    By: Maria Lagasca

    I’m going to tell you the first book where I felt seen as not only an Asian girl, but an Asian girl who didn’t speak English very well. English is not my first language. It’s always been a struggle for me. The first book I ever read, and still read once a year, is called In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson by Bette Bao Lord. It’s a little chapter book. On the cover, at the top, is a picture of Jackie Robinson, and at the bottom is a little Asian girl listening to a baseball game on the radio.

    It’s a really good book. It’s set after World War 2, and he girl, named  Shirley Temple Wong,  is in middle school. She immigrates to Brooklyn, New York from China, and she does not speak English very well. On top of that, she doesn’t have a support system besides the people in her classroom.

    Shirley doesn’t have formal instruction in English. She learns from the people around her. She struggles to fit in and deal with some of the stereotypes and some of the economic stress that most immigrants face. And yeah, she’s sassy! That’s what I loved about her. She’s bullied, but one thing she knew was to stick up for herself. She didn’t need English for that.  

    She ends up befriending and forgiving the bully. I don’t know. In the Asian culture, you don’t bow down. I was raised to be proud of who I was and to never be fearful, even though I was [afraid], so the idea of forgiving a bully was very new to me. Shirley ends up being friends with the bully, and they end up playing baseball.

    Another thing I liked about her was that she was a tomboy. She ended up playing baseball, which is what I did. I had two brothers. I got their hand-me-downs. I did whatever my brothers did, and I ended up gravitating towards sports. She made me feel very seen, and the mini stories of her parents not being able to navigate the grocery store and her having to go with her mom to translate. She doesn’t know English very well, but she’s the hope for her family. It’s like a burden for her. It’s something I think

  • Mental Health and Asking for Help

    Mental Health and Asking for Help

    By: Samantha Lowe

    Asking for help. Why is it so hard? Why are we so afraid when we need to do it? Is it our society? Is it human nature? Whether you live with mental illness or not, there’s a lot of pressure in our society to “pull up our bootstraps” and fend for ourselves. But all of us need help sometimes. And if we didn’t have any help at all…well think about all things you’ve done in life that you couldn’t have accomplished without help. Think about how far you’ve come because of the help you have received from others and then think about how far others have gone because of your help. It’s a beautiful full circle moment when you realize how connected we all are.

    Why then does this idea seem to stop at mental illness? Why does “you need help,” suddenly become a threat when someone is at their most vulnerable point? I’m very open about my mental health journey because of this. I want those with mental illness to hear my story and feel less alone. And I want those without mental illness to see this experience normalized. Because the fact of the matter is that it is so normal. Experiencing a mental illness is just as normal as a physical one. The National Institute of Health estimates that over 21% of U.S. adults live with a mental illness. When you think about how many people are hiding their symptoms out of fear or shame, the number is probably a lot higher.

    If you’re reading this and you think you might be a part of that statistic, this is me telling you, it’s not your fault and it’s okay if you think you need help. I can almost guarantee that you do—that’s not a threat or an insult. It’s an honest fact that there are resources out there, professionals who understand what you’re going through.

    I’ve had to ask for help many times. Especially during my time with the Library. Particularly, I’m thinking about when I went out on medical leave to go to Dialectical Behavior Therapy. I had been in therapy for years but wasn’t really getting very far. My therapist suggested DBT as something totally different and going in I didn’t really understand what I was getting into. I was desperately hopeful though, so I went for it.

    The thing about DBT is, you can’t work full-time. DBT is 10 hours a week of intensive out-patient therapy. The first thing they tell you is, “you’re not going to work.” I wasn’t going to get away with keeping this a secret. I had to ask for help.

    I didn’t want to go to my boss. I didn’t want to tell him I was sick and suffering and needed intensive treatment. For context, we barely knew each other. His position was newly created, and folks were getting shuffled around between supervisors, and I was

    interviewing for my current position. We ended up on the same team, but didn’t know one another very well. I could see he was friendly and fair, but I wasn’t too keen on telling him I was severely mentally ill.

    Eventually, probably sweaty and trembling, I went to his office to spill the beans. At the time I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety and ADHD. I explained that I was barely keeping it together at work and that at home I was completely falling apart. I avoided gruesome details, much as I am here, but he got the gist. “Well, that’s fine, I thought you were quitting.” His relief surprised me. “I’ve spent a month in the woods with troubled teens. They’re different sure, you’re an adult, but you can tell me most things without scaring me.”

    Let me tell you, it was not what I expected. My anxiety was telling me he’d be disappointed, that I was needed on the team, and that he wouldn’t approve the time off. Instead, he said, “Do what you need to. We’ll hold it down and everything will be here when you get back.”

    I ended up working twice a week on non-DBT days, so I could spread out my FMLA and stay somewhat in the loop around the Library. I told my team. That was scarier than my boss. I told them exactly where I was going and why and I set boundaries around my availability. They were mostly just…quiet. I went on to say that I was telling them so that none of them would ever feel like they had to hide their struggles. I told them because, “if I was going to physical therapy no one would bat an eye.” I told them because I needed their help too. A couple of them thanked me after. Most didn’t say much, but I was relieved that everything was out on the table and that I was going to get the help I needed.

    DBT didn’t end up curing me, but it changed my life for the better. I learned dozens of skills for managing stress and coping with emotions. I was diagnosed with a common personality disorder, which sounds awful, but is actually very hopeful. The thing about the condition I have is that, while it’s curable, it’s got to come from within myself. Medicine can help with symptoms; however, there’s no surgery to go in and get the illness out. I had to train new parts of my brain to do things completely differently from how I always had. It’s about learning to love myself and accept what’s around me. It’s about taking responsibility for that which I can control and letting go of the rest. The word “dialectical” refers to two opposing facts which can both be true. You love me, and you hurt me. I am strong and I am vulnerable. The therapists at DBT encourage us to say ‘and’ instead of ‘but’ to illustrate the grey areas in life. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am, and I needed help to get here. Neither discounts the other.

    If you’re reading this and think you need help, the Library is in your corner. We have books to help you with your mental health journey, health databases with accurate information that don’t exaggerate symptoms, and a friendly staff that can point you towards community

    resources. If nothing else, we’re a friendly place where you don’t need to spend money to hang out and you can know you’re safe. No, our staff aren’t therapists, but we work hard to create spaces where you can just be you. This is your place to belong, especially when you need help.

  • Where’s Marco this May

    Community Day Music Fest 5/17:

    Come join us for an afternoon of music, fun and food! Support the band students and come see what Halifax CTC has to offer!

    This event will be held at the Halifax School District Athletic Field

    Gratz Kickoff 5/24:

    Join us at the Gratz Borough Park at 20 S 3rd Street in Gratz as we kick off the summer in style with food, fun, and family activities for all ages. Activities start at 6 and will run until 8pm!