On the last Thursday of every month, at exactly 7:00 P.M., my adoptive mom would get me ready for our OCD meeting. She'd dress me in a red, too-tight, traditional cheongsam, braid my hair into a single, thick braid, and hand me a pair of Chinese slippers.
"You look terrif," she'd say.
"You forgot to bind my feet," I'd tell her with a straight face.
OCD—"Our Chinese Daughters"—was started by one of the area's adoptive mothers in order that we, Asian teenagers with dreams of waking up blond and round-eyed, would instead embrace our own culture. There were six mother–daughter pairs, and we rotated houses. The event was described—someone actually had stationery made up -- as an evening of "lively discourse, lukewarm coffee, and lots 'o' hugs." The hosting couple was expected to do a few things: provide some sort of Far Eastern cuisine, come up with a discussion topic, and run the rest of the family out of the house.
At thirteen, I would have rather stayed home and drank bleach.
Click here to read more. Definitely check her out!