<p><img src=”http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lfvfiivTAC1qbu90x.jpg” /></p>
<p>a 12 year old boss.</p>
<p>where were you at this delicate age? My 12 year old mind was consumed with boys, sour patch kids, POGS, slumber parties, and school dances, oh, minus the school part.</p>
<p>but this darling’s life would laugh at mine. My defiance in my mom’s requests to clean my room (that i had all to myself) fades in the shadow of her reality. Her day starts at 4 am, she cleans the house, helps prepares breakfast for everyone, wakes the other girls to start the line of showers // 1 bathroom to 30 girls. Then off to school for 7-8 hours, no mom to help her do her hair or dad to pat her on the back when she excels at English, because she does.</p>
<p>And that is the good life for her. She is hidden away at this safe house because her family is spread between Cambodia and Vietnam where her mom can’t provide for her and she has a better likelihood of being sold off as a female commodity in a hot second than living her life for the mere self evident truth of the pursuit of happiness.</p>
<p>She is stridently outspoken with an athletic frame, very atypical to Cambodian culture, these are my favorite things about her, very burlesque. Not to mention that she so transcends all things adolescent and her circumstance, she doesn’t even know what the word victim means. I mentally transplant her in America and I see her all grown up with a microphone. She could be anything from kelly ripa to a comedian. Her voice carries undeniable value and effortless strength. her name is Nia.</p>
<p>*this photo is mine and may not be used without my permission.</p>
