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Archive for September, 2015

ibyangThe image above shows Korean words written on the back of a photo. It’s a black and white photo of a Korean girl/me holding  a piece of paper with an identification number K-6714 written on it like a prisoner.

The Korean girl K-6714 had written it in her last days while she was being emptied of her words and filled with foreign words.

Every word of her mother tongue was  extirpated from her until it became a foreign language and the foreign words become her mother tongue.

My mother tongue is French. I’m an old-stock Quebecker who was born in her body with her memories.  I remember my life as her, a Korean girl, my real self. I remember losing  my words. I remember some time having no  language at all which made me unable to think. And I remember having written something on the back of that black and white photo but I feel like I had written it in French.

When I think of the Korean girl, I feel like my body is her coffin.

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Her family was removed from her
Her country was removed from her
Because she didn’t matter.

She was exported to a foreign land
She was sold to a new family she didn’t look like at all
Because she didn’t matter.

Her birth date was removed from her
Her name was removed from her
Her manners were removed from her
Her words were removed from her
Her ways of thinking were removed from her
Because she didn’t matter.

She was given a new birth date that has nothing to do with her birth
She was given a new name that didn’t match her face
She was taught new manners as being the right manners
She was forcefully penetrated with new words to become her new mother tongue and new ways of thinking
Because she didn’t matter.

She was killed when I was created
She is not because I am
I am not me I’m her.
Don’t tell me I matter when she didn’t

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