HeyJaredNever Too Late
Stories from a Khmer American woman who figured things out later in her life
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 24, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 15, 2026
Latest issues
Next to the Turkey (opens the original)
Read excerpt
Last Friendsgiving, there was a big turkey. Next to it, fried rice. And Khmer dipping sauces, more than one kind, because the turkey could use the help.For years, when I wanted to spend time with my friends, we would go out to dinner. If I wanted them to experience Khmer food, I would ask if they would be willing to try out Bayon or Lula Mae, two restaurants in New York City. Last year I finally realized I didn’t have to. I could invite them over to our home. I could make នំបញ្ចុក nom banh chouk
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Responsibility (opens the original)
Read excerpt
Responsibility came early for me.Not the kind you grow into slowly as you age with more understanding of the world, but the kind that arrives all at once when you’re too young to fully understand and settles in your body with a mixture of fear and confusion. The kind that teaches you to scan a room, anticipate needs, and adjust yourself accordingly as a way to understand the world.In my family, responsibility wasn’t optional. It wasn’t framed as sacrifice or heroism. It was simply what you did.
Loving Cambodia Without Fear (opens the original)
Read excerpt
I have stepped back from parts of the NYC Khmer community, and it’s taken me a long time to admit that out loud.Not because I love Cambodia any less. Not because I’ve forgotten where I come from. But because I’ve grown increasingly uneasy with the way love, loyalty, and identity are being policed. And also with how quickly pride can harden into something unrecognizable.I’ve been asked whether I have Thai friends, as if friendship itself were evidence of betrayal. I’ve been told I’m not really C
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Loans (opens the original)
Read excerpt
When my older sister left home after getting married, the responsibility as the eldest child fell to me. I was nine years old and still in elementary school. I would sit with my mom on the floor and I would help her sort through our important mail. We did this once a month and thinking back, I always assumed it was due to my impatience as a young child but now I think it might have been more of my mom’s own avoidance with the task. My parents couldn’t read and write English and by nine, I was sm
The Long Way Out (opens the original)
Read excerpt
Commuting in New York requires a certain aloofness, and I used to be good at it. Almost five years ago a woman two seats down was crying—mascara streaking, shoulders shaking. I have been that woman. More often I have been the person who looks away from her. So I did then what I knew to do: found the floor, found my phone, mapped the long way out of the car so I wouldn’t have to pass her. Hal and I were headed to a Mets game, the transfer coming up, and I was already moving toward the doors, alre
Publishing over time
Last 90 days. Choose a month to open its work.
Recurring subjects
Named in the text we hold. One piece can cover several.
Audience
No verified audience measurement yet.
About this data
Counts cover the work we have indexed. Tone needs enough text and a confident classification. Excerpts and episode notes are not full articles or transcripts.
Identity or attribution wrong? Suggest a correction.