Common House Magazine

May 8, 2025

Hello. Or I guess in your case – Nǐ Hǎo,

When I was young, I thought about you all the time. I wondered if you had the same almond shaped eyes, and the same mole, in the left corner, above your left eye. I wondered if you were also really short with bad posture or maybe I just lost the genetic lottery. I also wondered if you wondered about me, and if you missed me.

When I was young, I also hated you. I was always too white and not Asian enough for Asian people but too Asian for white people. I know firsthand that children don’t have a filter, because elementary school up until high school was the worst. I found myself gravitating towards making friends with East and Southeast Asian people but would be shut down with comments like, “you wouldn’t get it,” when talking food, culture, and upbringing. While around white people, I found myself hating my physical appearance. Most of my friends look at themselves in the mirror and see their parents. When I look in the mirror, I can’t see my mother. The infamous “why don’t you look like your mother” and “who are your real parents.” My classmates would ask me if it was because you didn’t want me, and I started to believe that.

But it’s okay. I’ve grown.

Now, I think of you differently. When I’m on the verge of tears after a long closing shift that I decided to pick up on a school night because this month’s rent is going to be tight, I think of you. When I’m stuck wondering what’s a phoneme and an allophone, and how to determine if two allophones belong to the same phoneme, I think of you. Nights I stay up late, head empty staring at my ceiling because I miss my sister or my boyfriend, I think of you. My small and insignificant day-to-day struggles, long days at work and school would not be there without you. It’s because of your selfless actions that I have a home, food, access to education for a great future, and people who love me.

I cannot imagine what it’s like to have to go through what you did. To carry something around in my uterus for nine months while wondering, am I ready for this? To go through all the possible options of what I could do and how I could make it work. The decision must have been harder after the excitement of oh yay – it’s a girl! But am I ready for this? To watch it sleep, bundled up in a blanket by a busy but safe location long after China’s gone to catch some shut-eye. At that moment, I would also think, no no it’ll be okay, I can figure something out. I would want to back out too. But you didn’t back out. You put it down. Turned around. And walked away.

Do you ever regret the decision that you made? When you woke up the next morning, were you hoping I would still be at the same spot you left me so you could take me back? When the article in the newspaper was released about a missing child, were you thinking of telling them it was yours? If those thoughts ever crossed your mind, just know that it was worth it. Hey, accidents happen. This was kind of a big one that could have been avoided with the help of Trojan or Durex but it’s okay, things happen. You made the right choice. Things turned out great for me. Did they for you as well? I truly hope so.

I know writing to you is pointless since we do not speak the same language. And having no name and no address to attach to this letter complicates things. But after twenty-one years of mixed feelings, I’ve had about you, I had a few things I needed to say. That decision you made twenty-one years ago, is one of the hardest things a person can go through. And after having the strength of making a decision like that, you deserve to have the life you were hoping for.

Xièxiè,

Olivia Kurdell