A Short Story of a Long Journey
by Phu Dao
19-25 years | 3rd Place
“I can go anywhere I want. Just not home.”
The song played in my head as the plane touched down on Australian soil, shredding layers of my skin showing a fear underneath. Fear of being lost with a bittersweet of freedom. I have left everything I know behind to become an international student, left the country I used to call home, the people I call family, the culture that shaped my identity.
Barnacle goose chicks jump out of their nest just 24 hours after they were born, nests which build on high jagged cliffs up to 120 meters to avoid predators. I feel the same way when I first came to Australia, a dive into the air felt like flying until I hit rock bottom. I was doing great at first, meeting new people, starting a new job, and being a teenager. I was loving it, everything was a thrill.
Then tuberculosis.
A lightning strike marked my lung, but instead of disappearing it tore open the sky.
I cough out not just blood but pieces of myself, physically and metaphorically.
Historically, tuberculosis is the deadliest infectious disease, claiming an estimated 1 billion lives over the last two centuries - a quick research on google stated that as I first learned about the disease when I first knew I had it.
So as one does, I panic!
At this point of the story, I thought of leaving out part of my identity, because I've been avoiding that for a long time now, but my desire is so important and relevant that it will be injustice to this story if I don’t include it here. So here is the truth lay bare, I am in fact a queer person.
My whole life I always feel a bit different, and I was scared of being misunderstood, being an outcast, getting avoided. So even though tuberculosis won’t be infectious, I can't give it to other people after just one day on medication. I can feel people who know about it treat me differently, and it just hit me harder because of that. I just want to be accepted.
One of my favorite authors wrote that depression is not the side effect of cancer, it's the effect of dying. My version is this: “Anxiety is not a side effect of Tuberculous, it’s the effect of stigma”.
I was ashamed of my disease. Even when it can’t harm others.
But, something unexpected helped me on my journey.
As I enter Springvale library owned by the City of Greater Dandenong, I feel welcomed and accepted. The library allows me to converse with the greatest minds of all time - dead or alive - there are thousands of books about Tuberculosis, Queer and whatever topic that you can think of.
I feel seen, and it makes me understand that there are places for minorities here. We have always been here, and we will always be here. Tuberculosis doesn’t erase my identity; it emphasises it, making me learn to accept all parts of me, in health or sickness.
Oh that, therapy and room decoration.
It's weird to think how if 1 + 1 = 2, and 2 + 2 = 4 then Library + therapy + room decoration = home. That's what I think of Australia now, my second home. A place where I can be understood, learn about other cultures, struggles, where my town has dialogue with the nature surrounding it and my room has a sense of calm for me to escape the chaotic atmosphere.
Am thankful for all of it, the bad and the good.