Patty Scull 

Excerpt from essay "Growing Up White":

"I think of New York as a real life land of misfits, like the broken toys in Christmas movies of our childhoods. Every person you pass is a crooked rocking horse or a doll with a missing eye, the remaining one sadly peering at you from underneath a droopy lid. Everyone is dreaming of something bigger, something better, untethering themselves from some life they previously owned and wish to forget. Having never spoken a word of Korean in my life, I am still surprised when old Asian men and women approach me for directions in busy intersections and underground in the subway. I look at them, trying to understand, nodding my head no comprende, but there they are, older versions of myself gesticulating wildly, pointing to a map, and speaking in a harsh staccato language unfamiliar to my ears. Maybe they are trying to get back to someone they love who is sick, vomiting in a toilet somewhere, or perhaps they’re just asking the time. I’ll never know. It’s one of those universal divides that reminds me that I don’t really fit in anywhere. Maybe they’re not asking me anything at all, and they’re simply rollicking in friendly conversation with someone who looks like they could be from their tribe."

Website Builder