Crouching Tiger, Hidden Bald Eagle

http://www.connie-zhou.com/asian-american-awakening/

So this article has been floating around on the interwebs lately. Basically this ABC talks about being an Asian American in the US and how we make up a population that is caught between two worlds: Chinese and American. She discusses how her identity has always been one of a confused version of either extreme (mathlete, hello kitty asian vs. whitewashed asian), how Asian stereotypes are more OK to make fun of than black ones, and how racism against Asian is a more important issue than it is made out to be.

Until I read this article, I really haven't had many identity crises. But this one almost gave me one. I am Chinese. I look Chinese. My parents are Chinese, we speak Chinese, I mix brownie batter with chopsticks, and of COURSE I take my shoes off when I get home (if you just kept your shoes on, all the shit you stepped on throughout the day would get tracked in and you might as well live outside.) I am American. I was born in Madison, WI which was and always will be "home" to me. I watch American TV shows, read American books, love American food, and hold rather liberal values. I guess now that I think about it, I don't really know what I am. I am an inbetweener, a floater, a link between two worlds. I am confused.

I have rarely felt discriminated against. There was that one time in 8th grade when all the non-white kids got called into the library for a vocabulary test but that was more hilariously ridiculous than infuriating, since most of us had much better vocabulary than any of our white classmates. When someone wrongs me, I NEVER assume it's due to my race, it literally doesn't cross my mind as a reason. Maybe it's because my parents are professors and we have always lived in a racially diverse area and many of my peers were also first generation Chinese, Indian, Pakistani, or whatever. Also, I have always lived in an academic environment and I think it's usually the less educated and less wealthy population that still holds firm racist beliefs. Whatever the reason, I've been perhaps living in a bubble where racism is usually not an issue.

I think I identify as mostly American. I've been so culturally immersed in America since birth that I talk like Americans, feel guilty when our government does some insanely stupid thing in the Middle East, worry about American healthcare and understand what America is and how it works. America is my home; I feel relief when I fly back into America from somewhere and see McDonalds everywhere. When asked to fill in the country of residence on a form, I automatically look at the top for "United States." But I am fiercely Chinese in some ways. I believe in respecting your elders. They are wise, strong, human, and have been through shit that I couldn't even imagine. I believe in keeping tradition alive. China has an incredibly rich and beautiful history through literature, music, and dance, which I have always been interested in. I believe in excelling academically and pushing yourself to do the best you can. And sorry but "trying your best" for my parents is usually different than "trying your best" for the average white American family, just based on my own experience. "My best" is synonymous with an A. And while this kind of tiger mom thinking or whatever people call it has brought me a lot of stress and pressure like everyone thinks, without these expectations, I almost definitely wouldn't have tried as hard in school. And when I reached my goals, I mostly have my parents to thank. Through pushing me and bitching at me when I bring home a grade other than an A, they made me believe that I COULD have done better because I have the skills and was just a lazy fuck or didn't study the right way. Which they were usually right about. They always had an unshakeable faith in my abilities, even when I doubted myself. They love me so much, and for all the shit I went through in that house, I could never, ever say that they didn't care or didn't try.

When I go back to China, my uncle tells me straight up: "Remember. You are Chinese." It wasn't until now that I realized what they are trying to say. When I walk in the streets of Harbin and order food in Chinese from the local people and they treat me like just a normal Chinese person buying Chinese food at a Chinese restaurant, I get such a rush. I feel like I belong in a weird, unfamiliar way. I'm around people who look like me, who share more of my genetic profile than most other people in the world, and it is the land where my parents, grandparents, and all my ancestors lived. It is where my DNA existed and was modified and molded for thousands of years, and in a way, China is where I should have been born, had my parents not moved. And despite my cultural upbringing and American sense of humor and Chinese illiteracy, I will always be Chinese. China is vast and complicated and wonderful. It is flawed and dirty and corrupt. But I feel loyal to this country because my family lives there and my parents are from there and it is coursing in my blood with every breath I take.

It's hard to feel like I don't completely belong anywhere. For the most part, I feel very comfortable being a Chinese-looking-and-sometimes-feeling person in America. But I worry about my kids; I don't know enough Chinese or enough about China to make them feel as Chinese as I do, which is clearly not a lot. My F2's are even worse off, assuming they don't marry Chinese people, and their offspring will be even less Chinese probably until my family line may not know they stemmed from China at all. I don't want them to lose the Chinese part of their identity. But I am so glad that I have had the exposure to both worlds. I feel balanced with my values and my beliefs. There are so many important things I have learned from both cultures, lessons which would leave me much worse off had I not learned them. I hope that I can try to embrace the best of both worlds, understand and avoid the flaws in both cultures, and retain my sense of pride in being an American Chinese. Chuang qian ming yue guang. Enough said.

With a little help

I love my friends. Obviously it's bittersweet to chat and phone and skype and visit, knowing that once it ends, we are still usually miles apart. But the kind words, shared eye contact, uninhibited laughs, and mutual love we feel for however many moments make it all worthwhile. I just facetimed some of my best friends as they were at our local Denny's, while I am here in Pittsburgh. Both the people and mediocre diner hold very important places in my heart. The whole thing made me feel full in spirit. Sometimes I find myself too lazy to make the effort to keep in contact, but keeping in mind how special I know these bonds to be helps remind me of the important roles these people play in my life. They help me get by, they are people I turn to in times of joy, fear, sadness, and anger, and have given me very few reasons to believe that will ever change, so long as I put in the effort to remind them that I love them and need them. This time of our lives is especially unpredictable and constantly fluctuating. It is scary. But for some reason I am not afraid for my friendship with these people. Maybe because they, as my friends, make me brave. I am really lucky to know and love such great human beings that have made and still make my life so full of hope and laughter and learning. I hope they know how very much they are appreciated.