Colonize This!: Young Women Of Color On Today's Feminism - Plot & Excerpts
Love Clinic Soyon Im “Don’t have sex,” warns my mother. It is Sunday morning and we are on the phone—11 A.M. her time, 8 A.M. mine. If I don’t answer her call, she’ll imagine a couple of disastrous scenarios, and I’m not sure which is worse for her—the thought of me lying underneath a wrecked car or a man. Once a week we talk, and every week she tells me not to have sex—sometimes at the end of our conversation, in lieu of saying good-bye. My mother has been trying to keep me from sex since I was in elementary school. In fifth grade my friend Jenny had a slumber party and I wasn’t allowed to go. “A girl shouldn’t get used to sleeping at other people’s houses,” my mother said. The first time she suspected I might go astray was when she caught me slow dancing with David Kim. I was fifteen and David was the first Korean-American guy that I ever liked. We met at one of those six-week SAT prep courses that cost hundreds of dollars and convenes during the weekends in some glass-and-steel corporate park.
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