Ode to Durian (We Are Ineffable)
When I first met you, I didn’t have the language to call you by your name. Instead, I opened my mouth so I could taste you on my tongue. I think I understand you better this way -- by taste alone. I listen to my senses, and I leave the senseless people behind.
People like to complain about you. They say you stink. They call you weird and gross. I was told that my white uncle passed out when they brought you to a family gathering. I couldn’t understand why. I think you’re heavenly.
I’m always searching for you because you’re hard to find in this part of the world. You don’t travel well, and I know that airports have given you grief for years. It’s not fair that people treat you this way. You’re perpetually misunderstood. It’s as if the language you speak cannot ever be translated in this country. I feel like I have to give all these disclaimers about you. I tell people not to be alarmed by your spikes. I attempt to prepare people for your scent, knowing the second they encounter this, they’ll back away in disgust. I stumble on my words as I try to explain the way you slide effortlessly between sweet and savory. I mention all these other familiar tastes in the hopes that they could understand -- flavors like mango and banana and onion. I don’t know why I try so hard. You’re ineffable.
To be honest, I see so much of myself in you. I see it in the way we slide between different modes. I see it in the way people struggle to understand us. Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how I got here? I try to condense my life story into only a few sentences, to package the narrative into something cohesive and consumable. I warn people that my story is a war story. I try to prep them for words like “genocide” and “starvation” and “bombing.” Sometimes, it feels impossible -- connecting the dots between my war-free American upbringing and my parents’ tragic war-torn trauma. Like trying to connect bananas with onions.
Bananas, onions, Cambodian, American… These things are just a part of us, right? We don’t need to justify these seemingly opposite things. We don’t need to always explain who we are. You certainly don’t need me to do it for you. You don't care how you smell. You offer yourself humbly to the world -- take it or leave it. Love me or hate me. Accept me or reject me. You don’t care either way. You know who can handle you. You know who can hold space for you. Evolution has taught you to armor yourself. I have much to learn from you, dear Durian.
Every time I taste you, I am filled with a deep sense of belonging. You are the bridge back to the motherland I’ve never been to. Even though we were born on opposite sides of the world, I will always cherish what we share -- complexity. A shared story that cannot be contained into a single flavor. We are ineffable. You are my perfume, and I’ll wear you like armor.
Mel Taing is a Cambodian-American photographer & experimental filmmaker based in Boston. She received her BFA in Film/Video at the Massachusetts College of Art & Design in 2016 and graduated with Departmental Honors. Mel creates portraiture that expresses the beauty of resilience. Her personal aesthetic is rooted in creating colorful environments that are filmic, dreamy and slightly surreal. As a child of Cambodian refugees in America, Mel is deeply interested in visually exploring concepts of intergenerational trauma, racial identity, spirituality, and resilience in community.
You can find her work at meltaing.com or her instagram.