What is your favorite color? This Buzzfeed quiz greeted me on the crisp morning of the summer Monday. The soft songs of the goldfinches and the skittering squeaks of the yellow throats welcomed my dusty eyes. The golden sun illuminated the fragrant dandelions, the fuzzy chrysanthemums, and the lemony poppies that lay outside my window. My yellow Care Bear, Max, fell over the fluffy yellow floral blanket that smelled like honey. I grabbed my iPhone that was covered with a bright gold case and listened to “Yellow Submarine” as I brushed my teeth with lemon-mint. Apparently, yellow was my favorite color.
But why?
My closet was the palette and my body was the canvas. The closet was filled to the brim with flashy neons and contrasting darks. Denim laid flat on the carpeted floor, the coats hung aimlessly on the rack, and sweats sat stiffly on the shelves. I could see my Ao Dai, patterned with flowers and sewn with silk in the depths, and I saw khaki shorts colored in beige, hot pink, and navy. The neutrals of the belts popped out against the colors that cramped my closet. The colorful tones of the shorts mixed in with the vibrant splash of the silky smooth shirt and neutral mood of the belts could have made my outfit the next Shot Marilyns. Yellow meant creativity!
The pink and yellow Old Navy sweatshirt that sat in the corner had outgrown me by two years. The color combinations reminded me of pink lemonade in the hot summer – chilled with happiness under the glowing sunlight. The smell of nail polish of neons filled up my closet as it acted as a storage space for my mom. My sister’s pearl earrings riddled with dust bunnies sat next to them. All of these shades of yellow fueled my creativity. But, were these for a boy’s body? If I wore these, would my image be seen beneath someone else? Yellow meant cowardice.
The words gay, homo, and faggot created nightmares in the dreams of wearing this palette. Throughout high school, I chose a plain yellow jacket. Fur lined the sleeves, cotton rimmed the hoodie, and metal zipped the body. I felt safe whenever I wore that yellow jacket – sheltered from the insecurities that manifested from my identity. Underneath my plain yellow jacket was a conglomeration of my picturesque passions, interests, and emotions, but I was seen as apathetic, monotonous, and unrelatable. This yellow jacket was a facade that imprisoned my longing for emotional spillage in my identity. Yellow meant deception.
I then looked at my family. They escaped bloody conflicts and a war-torn country to place a South Vietnamese flag in the depths of my American closet. Despite all of their struggles, they finally made their American dream into reality. As they trudged through the Pacific for refuge in America, they kept optimistic. All 11 of them traveled together, and all of them persisted in hope. My family had the true colors of yellow. Yellow meant optimism.
Yellow meant sunlight and sunlights acts as guidance towards a goal. As I unzipped my plain yellow jacket, the sunlight brightened the path to my identity and my confidence in myself. The color yellow guided me towards this path. As the morning sun radiates my closet, I hope every day, I come out of it in a different outfit.
