Angela Nishimoto

angela1-croppedAngela Nishimoto was raised on the windward side of O‘ahu, teaches on the leeward side, and lives in Honolulu with her husband. She earned her master-of-science degree in botanical science at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. She has published fiction in Hawai‘i Pacific ReviewChaminade Literary ReviewKaimanaHawai‘i ReviewBamboo RidgeWriting RawMs. Aligned, and elsewhere.
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From “Sex Education: A Tragicomedy of Seven Years”

When I was six years old, my parents had a Nichiren Shoshu of America church meeting at our home. Members from all over O‘ahu’s windward side descended on our little house in Kāne‘ohe on Uhilehua Street. The grown-ups chanted the liturgy, sang, recounted experiences, and vowed to practice harder.

Many of the children were outside the brightly lit house, playing in the cul-de-sac, running around in the dark. I walked on the coral-chip path at the front of our place, sounds of the meeting filling my ears. Rickie Ching, a boy from an area north of Kahalu‘u, sauntered up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

“We go kiss,” he commanded.

I brushed my long hair away from my face and puckered up.

He planted a big, fat, wet one on my tightly pursed lips.

“You wen’ like ’em?” he demanded.


From the Contributor Commentary

The memoir, “Sex Education: A Tragicomedy of Seven Years,” started with “At Sea,” which I wrote when I recalled the feel of salt winds, the muted light through cloud cover on Kāne‘ohe Bay, and numbing fear. I began “At Sea” at the Windward Community College Writing Retreat, headed by Lillian Cunningham. I showed this beginning to my husband, Andrew McCullough—as i do with all my writing. Then i took it to our writing group, and Pat Matsueda, Connie Pan, and Mary Archer brought me to see that it was part of a greater whole. As my memory was stirred, more began to flow. It became a tidal wave.