Summary
For fifteen years since I transmigrated, I have always been cautious in both word and deed, never daring to show even the slightest difference from others.
Yet, on the day of my Coming-of-Age Ceremony, my mother took out a small booklet and told me that a daughter should be especially sensible.
She spoke to me about individual autonomy, about Women’s Liberation, about Mr. Democracy and Mr. Science.
The black characters seemed to grow redder the more I read.
Oh, my mother, did you transmigrate as well?