This story appears in VICE magazine and Broadly's 2018 Privacy and Perception Photo Issue. Click HERE to subscribe to VICE magazine.
ADITI, 1991
I am born with a full head of hair, and when my name is first whispered to me, I do not recognize it as my own. By age four, I can read short books by myself; the first is Fantastic Mr. Fox. I like drawing and imitating my parent’s cursive with endless crayon squiggles. I frame the upstairs neighbor’s kid for stealing toys from my Hong Kong kindergarten.
FURBALL, 1997
St. Louis kids think my body hair is really funny, so I start wearing knee-length socks. I go through popular kid tryouts and fail, but I hear a lot of sordid stuff in my weeks hanging with the mean girls. I doctor a note to Ken, the “hot” Asian kid, warning him that they’re debating who gets to “have” him. He freaks out because of cooties. Mean girl Ellen tries to match the handwriting on the playground. Lucky for me, I have already perfected four different hands.
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