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Quote by Valerie Patkar

“Orangtua yang hebat adalah orangtua dengan anak yang juga hebat, kata Bapak. Tapi aku tak ingin anakku jadi anak yang hebat. Aku cuma ingin anakku hidup lebih lama.”

Quote by Valerie Patkar

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Serangkai

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Valerie Patkar

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“I realized that the childish impression I had always had of my father, as Just Lawgiver, was entirely wrong. We were utterly dependent on this man, who was not only deluded and ignorant, but incompetent in every way. What was more, I knew that my mother was incapable of standing up to him. It was like walking into the cockpit of an airplane and finding the pilot and co-pilot passed out drunk in their seats. And standing outside the Lyceum, I was struck with a black, incredulous horror, which in fact was not at all unlike the horror I had felt at twelve, sitting on a bar stool in our sunny little kitchen in Plano. Who is in control here?> I thought, dismayed. Who is flying this plane?”

“If you think you are so enlightened," Ram Dass said, "go and spend a week with your parents." That is good advice. The relationship with your parents is not only the premordial relationship that sets the tone for all subsequent relationships, it is also a good test for your degree of Presence. The more shared past there is in a relationship, the more present you need to be; otherwise you will be forced to relive the past again and again.”

“پدر و مادر من آدمهای خوبی هستن. برای هیچ کدوم از ماجراهای زندگیم اونها رو مقصر نمی دونم (شاید قبلاً آره، ولی الان دیگه نه). و من خیلی دوست شون دارم. اونها قصه ها و سرگذشت ها و مشکلات خودشون رو داشتن، همون طور که ننه بابای اونها هم داشتن، و برو تا آخر. و البته مثل همه ی پدر و مادرهای دنیا، پدر و مادر من هم، با نیتِ بهترین ها برای بچه هاشون ، بعضی از مشکلاتشون رو به من منتقل کردن، همونطور که احتمالاً من هم به بچه هام منتقل خواهم کرد.”

“Ky laughed, felt the tingling warmth that bloomed within her whenever she talked to someone for whom she didn't need to fill in the blanks - someone who understood that the act of complaining about her parents was not an invitation to troubleshoot her problems, because there was no solving the problem of refugee parents; someone who could commiserate without casting judgment; someone who accepted the contradiction of the things that annoyed her most about her family being the same things that signaled to her that they cared.”

“Now that she was twenty-two, the words were there in her head, jumbled. The feeling was still too hot to approach but was slowly beginning to make sense. If she would just give herself the time and space to think about it, to examine the thing she’d spent her whole life avoiding, she would realize that what she wanted to say to her mother was that she was the one who had no idea—no idea how badly Ky and people like Ky needed a break. No idea how speaking perfect English and having an office job and being born in Australia didn’t mean what any of them thought it would mean. No idea how hard it was to walk the narrow path where everyone expected her to be quiet and smart and hardworking and good—a narrow path not even laid out by her or people like her. No idea how it felt to suffer the slow death of a thousand cuts: from the things people said, from the way people looked at her. The looks she got when she knocked on doors, walked into a room, boarded a flight; the way they saw her skin before they saw her, wanted her to shut up and be grateful, expected her to take a joke when she was the joke. The way she was expected to feel lucky, so lucky, like her life was abundant and full, when all she felt was depleted and diminished. It made her feel crazy to be called lucky, and her mother had no idea.”