Biracial Protagonist Quotes

“It's important for us to know where we come from and what's been done to us, otherwise, how're we supposed to fight what's happening to us now? It's all connected.”
― Daven McQueen, The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones

“Xuan and I had decided to take a trip together in honor of our one-thousand-day anniversary. We ate Korean barbecue, shared a decadent cake, and then drove three and a half hours to Yosemite. I’d never heard of such an occasion. But in Seoul, where Ji-Hoon was born and raised, there was almost a monthly holiday devoted to romance. We wore similar out- fits, which Xuan said was common for couples in Asian countries. Three years was a big deal, especially when we didn’t know how many more we’d have.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“We continued dancing as a swift gale wheeled through the hills of Santa Cruz. Xuan leaned down to whisper into my ear, his lips lightly brushing the helix. “Once upon a time there was a boy, and he loved a girl very much. He was sad because he didn’t think the girl noticed him. Until one day the uni- verse intervened and a beautiful comet brought them together after a tragic accident occurred that day. The boy and the girl found comfort and friendship in each other that night. And something new and extraordinary began to blossom under the heavens, something that would burn with such bright- ness that all the stars would be in awe. And the boy fell madly in love with the girl and promised to always find her, in this life and the next.”
“That’s my favorite story.”
Xuan smiled. “It’s the best one I’ve ever told, Ms. Steel.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“I looked at his hand clasping mine. Three years ago, on October 15, 2016, the brilliant blue blaze of the comet had crossed the vastness of our world in Colombia. I could see it, almost as if we were back there, standing on the roof of the dorms as we looked over the city together. We didn’t know it then, but our life together was just beginning.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“Change "I'm too old to start (or finish or publish) that novel" to "I'm too alive NOT to start." Sharing your words is the best way to keep on living.”
― Judalon de Bornay, Great Crossing

“When are we going to wake up and call it what it is? They degrade blacks; instead of getting sprayed by a water hose, we are now getting sprayed with bullets! Instead of getting a peaceful night’s rest, our doors are getting kicked in! Oh, and instead of suffocating us with their white sheets or tying a noose around our necks and hanging us from a tree, they suffocate us by putting their knee on our neck instead. Let’s keep it real here. Who are we fooling? Racism has still has a heartbeat, and I do not see it dying anytime soon.”
― Charlena E. Jackson, Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?

“Most of my friends didn’t believe in destiny. Nothing supernatural, nothing sent from above... no magic, no fate, just life, circumstances, and probability. But there were many signs from the universe pointing to Xuan. I never thought my love story would begin as a blockbuster, but everything that happened seemed like a big neon celestial sign that we were meant to be together. My friends would never understand, not really. If I hadn’t met Xuan, I would likely feel the same as them.”
― Kayla Cunningham

“Roxy was bi, and in my opinion she was—and still is—a total badass. Of all my childhood friends, this girl’s my bestie. Even when we were young, I knew deep down that Roxy was going to conquer the world. Her brilliance, coupled with her unwavering commitment to feminism and human rights, made her truly exceptional. And she cared, really cared, about animals and the pressing issues in our world. She wasn’t just one of these people that wore shirts and posted awareness videos online. She dedicated her weekends to protests and taking action. And I loved that she was hooking up with Amren, or whoever this girl was, if she made Roxy happy. I loved her. I loved all of her. Hopefully Amren would see how awesome Roxy was and make her feel special.”
― Kayla Cunningham

“The Romans and Greeks believed that the appearance of comets, meteors, and meteor showers was portentous. They were signs that something good or bad had happened... or was about to happen. For me, that was the moment I fell in love with Xuan. That was the promise of a future filled with love... and beauty... and brilliance. That future began and ended with Xuan.”
― Kayla Cunningham

“In that instant, I even forgot my own name, until I heard it being whispered from his lips.

“Cassie,” he said, pulling away.

I wanted this—dreamed of it, but now that it was happen- ing, I didn’t know how I’d ever want anything else. I wanted more. I wanted him. As he held my gaze, I realized that I had never felt more alive. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning of our journey together.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“That’s very trusting.” Iris watches Anke search our backpacks.
“We’re saving people’s lives. We thought we could be,”Anke says. I’m more fixated on her arm in my backpack than on what she’s saying, though. That bag is nearly empty, but it’s mine. She’s messing it up. Her hands might not even be clean.
When she does stop, I immediately wish she hadn’t. “Denise,” she says, “I need to search your bed next.”
My gaze flicks to my pillow. “I. I. Could I.”
“She doesn’t like people touching her bed.” Iris stands, guarding me.
“You’re touching it,” Captain Van Zand’s brother says.
Iris shoots him a withering look. “I sat at the foot, which is the only place that’s OK for even me to touch, and I’m her sister.”
Anke’s sigh sounds closer to a hiss. “Look, we have more rooms to search.”
I squirm. No. Not squirm. I’m rocking. Back and forth. “Wait,” I say.
“You can’t—” Iris goes on.
“Just ’cause she’s too precious to—” the man argues.
“Wait,” I repeat, softer this time, so soft that I’m not even sure Iris hears it. “Can I, can I just, wait. I can lift the sheets and mattress myself. You can look. Right? Is that good? Right? Is that good? If I lift them?” I force my jaw shut.
No one says anything for several moments. I can’t tell if Anke is thinking of a counterargument or if she really is trying to make this work. Her lips tighten. “OK. If you listen to my instructions exactly.”
“You’re indulging her?” Captain Van Zand’s brother says. “She’s just being difficult. Have you ever seen an autistic kid? Trust me, they’re not the kind to take water scooters into the city like she did.”
“Denise, just get it done,” Anke snaps.
I don’t stand until they’re far enough away from the bed, as if they might jump at me and touch the bed themselves regardless. I blink away tears. It’s dumb, I know that—I’m treating Anke’s hands like some kind of nuclear hazard—but this is my space, mine, and too little is left that’s mine as is. I can’t even face Iris. With the way she tried to help, it feels as though I’m betraying her by offering this solution myself.
I keep my head low and follow Anke’s orders one-handed. Take off both the satin and regular pillowcases, show her the pillow, shake it (although I tell her she can feel the pillow herself: that’s OK, since the pillowcases will cover it again anyway)—lift the sheets, shake them, lift the mattress long enough for her to shine her light underneath, let her feel the mattress (which is OK, too, since she’s just touching it from the bottom) . . .
They tell us to stay in our room for another hour.
I wash my hands, straighten the sheets, wash my hands again, and wrap the pillow in its cases.
“That was a good solution,” Iris says.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“For what?”
Being difficult. Not letting her help me. I keep my eyes on the sheets as I make the bed and let out a small laugh.”
― Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone

“She unwinds her scarf, taking so long about it that I wonder if she expects me to respond. “You were following the rules,” I offer after a minute. It makes her words no more pleasant. Resentment. Was that how she’d looked at me? Then how am I supposed to trust how she looks at me now?
My words elicit a thankful smile. “Mostly, though, I knew you could do the job. Did you ever know other autistic people?”
I shake my head. I’d heard rumors about one teacher, but never asked him. Mom had encouraged me to find a local support group, but I’d never seen the appeal—or the need. It wouldn’t change anything. I had friends, anyway. Peopleonline, my fellow volunteers at the Way Station. I even got along with Iris’s friends.
“Well, I did, and I feel like a fool for never recognizing your autism. I had autistic colleagues at the university. They were accommodated, and they thrived. One researcher came in earlier than everyone else and would stay the longest. I saw the same strengths in you once I knew to look for them. You’re punctual, you’re precise, you’re trustworthy. When you don’t know something, you either figure it out or you ask, and either way, you get it right. I wanted to give you the same chance my colleagues had, and that other Nassau passengers got. One of the doctors is autistic—did you know?” Els silences an incoming call. “Does that answer your question?”
― Corinne Duyvis

“I mean: if you’re going outside to look for your sister, I get it.” Max goes silent. Maybe Mirjam’s death is hitting him now, maybe his voice will choke—but he goes on. “But if you’re going outside to help your mother . . .” He gestures helplessly at my injured arm. His fingers stop a centimeter away, hovering in midair. “Don’t risk it. Don’t risk you.”
“She’s my mother.”
“The captain will never let her on if she doesn’t even try. Not when there are so many people who haven’t had thechance to try. People we can use on the ship. People who have been on that waiting list forever.”
There are a dozen things I want to say. But she’s mymother—as though that means as much as people pretend it does.
She is trying, just in a different way—as though I’m convincing myself.
I wasn’t on that waiting list, either.
I might not be someone the ship can use, as much as I’m trying to be.”
― Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone

“I saw her note the way I hovered over the various ethnicities on the form. First the 'white' box, then to the airspace over the 'black' box, a kind of momentary hesitation, a protest of stillness, a staring into the abyss of everything I did not know about myself. She, like me, was made of halves.”
― Olivia Sudjic, Sympathy

“Do I have to admit
that I'm half Cuban and half American,
or should I go even further, and explain
that Dad's parents were born in the Ukraine,
part of Soviet Russia?
Or am I just entirely American,
all the fractions left behind
by immigration from faraway nations?”
― Margarita Engle, Enchanted Air: Two Cultures, Two Wings

“At the steamy train station
in New Orleans, horrifying signs
above drinking fountains
announce:
COLORED.
WHITE.

Confused, I drink out of both.
Why should it matter if a stream
of coo, refreshing water
pours
into
my
mouth
or
another?”
― Margarita Engle, Enchanted Air: Two Cultures, Two Wings

“Xuan tucked his arm underneath my neck. “Now sleep. I’m here, and you’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Yǒu yuán qiān lǐ lái xiāng huì.”
“What does that mean?” I muttered sleepily, my eyelids refusing to open.
“It means that even from thousands of miles away, Fate has intervened,” he said softly and wrapped his arm around me.”
― Kayla Cunningham

“When the waiter left, I asked Xuan, “Have you ever wondered about God? Or religions other than your own?”

“Most of my family is Buddhist. Growing up, every year my grandparents on my mother’s side organized a chaoshan jinxiang—what I think you know as a pilgrimage. We’d go to the city’s most important religious site, Miaofengshan, or the Mountain of the Wondrous Peak, which is considered one of the five holy mountains that match cardinal directions in geomancy. They still go yearly to pay their respects to the mountain and to present incense. Honestly, I’ve only stepped foot into one church in my life, and that was with my nǎi nai.”

I knew nǎi nai meant “grandmother” in Chinese.
“You did?” I asked, a little surprised. He’d never mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I used to spend weekends at her house. She had a lot of paintings of Jesus, and a beautiful jade rosary. When I was young, she took me to a Catholic church, and I remember watching her as she asked God for several things and lit prayer candles. Nǎi nai believed a church was a place where dreams were realized. She told me to tell God my wishes and He would grant them. I remember what I said to her when she told me to make a wish.” Xuan offered an indulgent half smile. “Where is God, huh? Look around us. Look at all the bad things that happen in this world. God isn’t a genie, and a church isn’t a place for wishes to be granted. It’s a place for the lonely, sick, weak, and broken. It’s a place people go to not feel alone. But my nǎi nai still went back, every Sunday.”

I continued watching Xuan, not quite sure where this conversation was going. I patiently waited for him to make his point.

“I didn’t make any wishes that day. I had never made a wish or spoken to God until the night of the mudslide. But I remember, in Colombia, looking out onto the road and seeing your vehicle trapped, and silently I prayed. I’ll believe in you. So please... . save her. If you let her live, I’ll happily give up the rest of the time I have left alive. Take me and let Cassie live.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You

“My stomach twisted. I felt an ache inside me grow in anger. Prejudice and hatred were poisonous and all-consuming, spreading like a cancer every day.”
― Kayla Cunningham, Fated to Love You