The Quality Street box sits in the spice drawer of Asad’s kitchen, filled with flour instead of chocolates. His mom uses it to make flatbread, using the flour to prevent the dough from sticking. Growing up, he noticed a box like this in every relative and family friend's house. Royal Dansk tins held thread and needles, Walker cookie boxes with tools and screws, and Folgers tubs filled with rice. Nobody thought twice about any of it, of course aside from the kids that were deceived each time the “cookies” were brought out. It wasn’t until Asad began hanging out at friends' houses that he began to feel embarrassed. When their moms brought out a box of treats, there was a guarantee that it would be filled with treats. So when his friends came over, he hid the mismatched containers on the counter and the reused jars, worried that his friends would see them. 
In retrospect, he says the embarrassment stemmed from feeling different and out of place. Although he grew up around kids who shared the same background as him, it didn't seem like enough to not feel different. These small practices become markers of where you come from, yes, but it's not a bad thing. He can’t think of a time where his fears of being made fun of were ever realized, and thinking back, his friends must have had things they pushed away and hid in their own homes. Maybe growing up in New York meant learning that everyone had something they thought made them different, even when nobody else was looking.

– Ariba Hassan

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant