CHELSIE COATES
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A chronological spewage of my thoughts and feelings into poetry and writing.
Usually, my text will accompany work in the form of print, sculpture, sound or performance. All of these are vessels for a completely personal insight to my own experiences growing up and now as an adult. 
Feelings of displacement and anecdotal stories are the basis of my writing and a few specific stories outlined in "I am Not Chinese Enough to Actually be Chinese" are memories I recall often as dark moments in my life.​

i am not chinese enough to be verbally assaulted

4/21/2020

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i can’t help but 


sob 


myself to sleep every night 


thinking 


of how dumb i must be to be 


worried 


about my insecurities when there are thousands 


dying 


every single day. 


so what you’re not chinese enough ? 


in times where being an eastern asian and having that run through your blood, even if


born 


in WHATEVER country puts you at risk 


to be 


beaten and 


tormented 


for existing , i 


weep 


for my sisters and brothers who don’t have the luxury of 


passing. 


my auntie in new york wrote me a story of her first covid related injustice 


a teller at the bank 


happily chatting away to a customer prior to her, 


upon my auntie reaching the booth , she 


drew 


up her scarf to cover her face , 


a makeshift mask,  


and her demeanour 


changed 


to that of short tempered and dismissive.


perhaps you would 


think nothing 


of such a tale  , if you are not the one to 


live it


or understand the connotations alongside it . 


but the teller was just 


personifying 


all those negative words people have spewed into the world to do with being a certain race 


the president himself called it 


a 


chinese virus .


therefore , 


us chinese are to blame. 


but i am not chinese enough 


to be verbally assaulted 


about bringing covid 


to this country 


yet my heart still weeps  


in solidarity 


for those who are.
​
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. orange slices & mint imperials

4/13/2020

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memories of 


mint imperials 


and 


orange slices 


at the end of a meal are 


ingrained 


in my mind as a treat after dinner, 


everyone is far too full to ever eat 


dessert. 


but to wash down the bloated feeling,


refreshing wedges of orange.


and a mint imperial (or 5) 


whilst people argue over who takes the 


bill.


it’s funny when something so stereotyped becomes the 


meaning of your existence.


how a piece of food is used to create a 


false 


sense 


of 


chinese-ness 


and 


is so subsequent to my sense of self.


but


the thing is, 


no-one even knows who invented the mint. 


it mirrors the the elusiveness of my 


belonging. 


just like 


the memories 


that slip through 



the grasp 



of a simple



aquarium fish


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  • Writing
  • Portfolio
  • ABOUT
  • Artist Statement