It must be a sign of a mid-life crisis, but a lot of my dispensable income lately has come into toys and games. Pokemon, collectibles, games, and Lego. Lots of Lego. Collectible Lego.
Many of my woke babes out of concern often ask me if I want to reclaim my name or the part of my youth. To be frank, my English name is out of convenience for me (I hate teaching people to pronounce my name – it’s annoying me when they do it wrong). Also, it’s the name of my first crush in my teens, a beautiful blond American teacher. So, how’s that for reclaiming! The part of my youth that is related to my browness or my queerness wasn’t all that lost. I was never really the flamboyant, activist, or party type. So yes, while I can’t always be authentic and honest, I never really experienced any violence or oppression either. There was nothing to reclaim.
The part that I guess was lost the most, was my childhood. Growing up, there was never Lego or anything like that. Access to these toys is rare in post-communist Vietnam. Even as they become available, my dad’s single income as a blue-color train worker couldn’t afford us anything like this. I had one counterfeited red Lego helicopter. I’m not complaining. I had an ok childhood I think. A lot of maths and homework. But I really didn’t mind. The moment I had my first computer (age 14), then just a lot of comp sci stuff and then computer games.
And so I guess as grown men I now can afford myself these little fragments of joy and childhood that we couldn’t afford. And just like how I buy a bunch of rainbow color stuffs, aside from pleasing the capitalist corporate overlord, is to be visible, to show others that a queer brown immigrant can have a successful and normal life.
But that story is for another entry
Pace Fine Arts 