For as long as I can remember, I’ve been told I don't have manners. In the Western world I grew up in, there is a very specific, delicate "frequency" women are expected to tune into. It’s a soft, filtered way of navigating the world one that values the sugar-coating around the message more than the message itself. Because I don’t wrap my thoughts in layers of lace, I’ve been labeled as "too blunt," "harsh," or even "rude." But here is my heart’s truth: I don’t lack manners. I carry a different, more ancient grace. The Melody of My Ancestors When people tell me my tone is "aggressive," what they’re actually hearing is the beautiful, rhythmic ghost of Cantonese living in my English. Cantonese isn't a language of hushed whispers; it’s a symphony of nine tones, sharp inflections, and a vibrant energy that flows like a river. It’s the sound of a bustling family kitchen and the soulful strength of the women who raised me. In my herita...