note: long entry. you have beEN forewarned (dude, afu, gimme a break....i type fast, okay?)
A voice...no, my voice
chinese new year parade was this weekend. i missed it. how many more new year parades will i get to see while being in San Francisco? it's so sad to think that this may have been the one and only chance.
to what extent has being asian had an impact on our life of adolescence and adulthood? did we all have asian friends when we were growing up? how were these relationships unique compared to the relationships we had with our other peers? i noticed that i was guilty of replicating the same stereotypes that i was criticizing others for. i first envisioned myself as different---as american first, and as asian second--and the degree to which being asian shaped my self-image depended on certain variables (age, location, ethnicity, socioeconomic background, etc). i'd visit hong kong, go on asian tours in japan, speak english in china...all of which made me feel more american than anything. in grade school, i had one or two asian friends, but my best friends were usually white. i remember how frustrated i became when someone saw me as less american than they were just because i wasn't white. it was through their lens that i saw myself. it was by answering their questions that i heard my voice.
i grew up speaking cantonese at home. i was born in america, but my super-traditional father did a good job in instilling the chinese culture in me. in fact, nowadays, i feel more chinese than those born and raised in asia...(especially some fobby friends i know here! heehee). at the beginning, language posed a threat in the process of trying to harness a "voice" that could adequately reflect my emotions and experiences. i was often frustrated when language imposed severe limitations on my ability to locate the right words to express the complexity of such. i felt reluctant to speak up in class; i was too timid to talk; i was afraid that my comments would be irrelevant.
so i grew up silent, but bursting with the glimmering desire to describe everything i observed in the closest detail. i scrutinized people sitting across from me at dim sum restaurants, attempting to read their life stories from the lines on their faces, the wrinkles in their clothes. i turned an empty car into a joyous amusement park for a family of ants, with the windshield converted into a gleeful water slide park. i would trace the interior features of our minivan with the intent to discover its secrets, to script a story worthy of a childhood afternoon.
i spoke rarely...at school, to my parents, even to my older sister. maybe it's an asian thing to be submissive and to be obedient. but i had the slightest intention to argue (maybe...heehee). the truth was, i remembered when i was in second grade, i recited a sentence....i said: i walked to the park...pronouncing the verb as "walk-DID." i wanted to emphasize that it was in past tense. but this one guy named matthew (i still remember him! =P) would start cracking up on my accent and my verb tenses. so i knew that if i were to ever falter again, i would be reminded at recesses, at the water fountain, and at the swings. but it wasn't even just grade school. all through high school, i gave the "whatever-you-want-to-do" response. i remember getting several SIMILAR advices from my friends at the end of hs senior year where they wrote in my yearbook..."you're too nice. be careful. don't let anyone take advantage of you, except for me!" not that i was too nice, i don't think...i just never allowed myself to think what options "i" wanted. and then, in Sweden, i was teased. i was the baby AND the quiet one.
i think that is why i've discovered the power of the pen (okay the keyboard in this case); i've found myself some courage and determination to push the boundaries of the written word in coming to finding my voice. while young writers polished their impressive repertoire of creative writing, novice writers like myself are looking within ourselves in search of the stories for the first time ever. i guess through letters, confessions, email messages, and diary entries, i've allowed myself to have a free and fearless voice--it's self-expression, i think.
i guess i've noticed these changes when i saw shifts in tones, colors, and textures that came with each story i told. to me, this movement echoed the insatiable need to recreate and redefine ourselves to keep up with our changing world--these asian americans who want to speak up. i guess in many ways, writing has been a permanent way for me to self-affirm my stories where i've gained knowledge and insight after weathering the storms of growing up. words carry an almost holy weight that i have lugged around in an attempt to hide my unspoken thoughts, only to try to expose my feelings through writing.
but now, i'm no longer searching to reaffirm my identity as an american. in fact, i proudly claim that i'm asian first, american second...(chinese specifically!...straight up from mainland...well, hong kong is part of mainland...unlike other little nationalists...who are nevertheless descendents from mainland-chinese! this is something i'll speak more of only on one-to-one basis).
about a year ago, i wrestled with my closest friends the idea that we were more chinese than americans. on standardized tests, they'd rather check the "other" box (referring themselves as "americans") than chinese. i, on the other hand, would never fail to check chinese. now that i am here in SF, i see how this world is so much similar in thought, in idea, n sync, =) with who i am. i am submerged in a really rich chinese culture, with asian americans everywhere. some are even fifth generations; and they'd still refer to them as chinese first. (well, my "gentlemanly-trained-bodyguard" friend wittingly said he'd check the russian box...haha!) being enriched with so much culture allows me to express myself even more, to be who i am without worrying that someone would find my voice irrelevant. true, i'm still searching and learning...but these few months have made me realize how important being asian american is, how much we can learn from each other, and how we can establish our own voices. i see only minor impediments, if there are any at all.
why did i go off on this tangent? i have no idea. maybe it was hearing michael chang's testimony or seeing mamiit's determination evolve on the tennis courts or a-5th-gen-boy's involvement with chinese culture. somehow it was inspirational to know that they are asian americans and so am i.
other noteworthy happenings that make me smile....a surprising wake-up call (so thoughtful!), Farm-friend's sweetness and rabbit pate, r. miller baby!, dS' considerate scary-link-advice, someone's gullibility in revealing some hush-hush info along with the subtle-yet-gentlemany etiquette, kuai 3X, first-time tennis match, different variations for "fruit," talk about pastrami in NY--flew knows it all!, race up the steps---he cheated!, rollerblades from bigsista, catch-up with jwong, and of course...t-shirt weather! *wink*
A voice...no, my voice
chinese new year parade was this weekend. i missed it. how many more new year parades will i get to see while being in San Francisco? it's so sad to think that this may have been the one and only chance.
to what extent has being asian had an impact on our life of adolescence and adulthood? did we all have asian friends when we were growing up? how were these relationships unique compared to the relationships we had with our other peers? i noticed that i was guilty of replicating the same stereotypes that i was criticizing others for. i first envisioned myself as different---as american first, and as asian second--and the degree to which being asian shaped my self-image depended on certain variables (age, location, ethnicity, socioeconomic background, etc). i'd visit hong kong, go on asian tours in japan, speak english in china...all of which made me feel more american than anything. in grade school, i had one or two asian friends, but my best friends were usually white. i remember how frustrated i became when someone saw me as less american than they were just because i wasn't white. it was through their lens that i saw myself. it was by answering their questions that i heard my voice.
i grew up speaking cantonese at home. i was born in america, but my super-traditional father did a good job in instilling the chinese culture in me. in fact, nowadays, i feel more chinese than those born and raised in asia...(especially some fobby friends i know here! heehee). at the beginning, language posed a threat in the process of trying to harness a "voice" that could adequately reflect my emotions and experiences. i was often frustrated when language imposed severe limitations on my ability to locate the right words to express the complexity of such. i felt reluctant to speak up in class; i was too timid to talk; i was afraid that my comments would be irrelevant.
so i grew up silent, but bursting with the glimmering desire to describe everything i observed in the closest detail. i scrutinized people sitting across from me at dim sum restaurants, attempting to read their life stories from the lines on their faces, the wrinkles in their clothes. i turned an empty car into a joyous amusement park for a family of ants, with the windshield converted into a gleeful water slide park. i would trace the interior features of our minivan with the intent to discover its secrets, to script a story worthy of a childhood afternoon.
i spoke rarely...at school, to my parents, even to my older sister. maybe it's an asian thing to be submissive and to be obedient. but i had the slightest intention to argue (maybe...heehee). the truth was, i remembered when i was in second grade, i recited a sentence....i said: i walked to the park...pronouncing the verb as "walk-DID." i wanted to emphasize that it was in past tense. but this one guy named matthew (i still remember him! =P) would start cracking up on my accent and my verb tenses. so i knew that if i were to ever falter again, i would be reminded at recesses, at the water fountain, and at the swings. but it wasn't even just grade school. all through high school, i gave the "whatever-you-want-to-do" response. i remember getting several SIMILAR advices from my friends at the end of hs senior year where they wrote in my yearbook..."you're too nice. be careful. don't let anyone take advantage of you, except for me!" not that i was too nice, i don't think...i just never allowed myself to think what options "i" wanted. and then, in Sweden, i was teased. i was the baby AND the quiet one.
i think that is why i've discovered the power of the pen (okay the keyboard in this case); i've found myself some courage and determination to push the boundaries of the written word in coming to finding my voice. while young writers polished their impressive repertoire of creative writing, novice writers like myself are looking within ourselves in search of the stories for the first time ever. i guess through letters, confessions, email messages, and diary entries, i've allowed myself to have a free and fearless voice--it's self-expression, i think.
i guess i've noticed these changes when i saw shifts in tones, colors, and textures that came with each story i told. to me, this movement echoed the insatiable need to recreate and redefine ourselves to keep up with our changing world--these asian americans who want to speak up. i guess in many ways, writing has been a permanent way for me to self-affirm my stories where i've gained knowledge and insight after weathering the storms of growing up. words carry an almost holy weight that i have lugged around in an attempt to hide my unspoken thoughts, only to try to expose my feelings through writing.
but now, i'm no longer searching to reaffirm my identity as an american. in fact, i proudly claim that i'm asian first, american second...(chinese specifically!...straight up from mainland...well, hong kong is part of mainland...unlike other little nationalists...who are nevertheless descendents from mainland-chinese! this is something i'll speak more of only on one-to-one basis).
about a year ago, i wrestled with my closest friends the idea that we were more chinese than americans. on standardized tests, they'd rather check the "other" box (referring themselves as "americans") than chinese. i, on the other hand, would never fail to check chinese. now that i am here in SF, i see how this world is so much similar in thought, in idea, n sync, =) with who i am. i am submerged in a really rich chinese culture, with asian americans everywhere. some are even fifth generations; and they'd still refer to them as chinese first. (well, my "gentlemanly-trained-bodyguard" friend wittingly said he'd check the russian box...haha!) being enriched with so much culture allows me to express myself even more, to be who i am without worrying that someone would find my voice irrelevant. true, i'm still searching and learning...but these few months have made me realize how important being asian american is, how much we can learn from each other, and how we can establish our own voices. i see only minor impediments, if there are any at all.
why did i go off on this tangent? i have no idea. maybe it was hearing michael chang's testimony or seeing mamiit's determination evolve on the tennis courts or a-5th-gen-boy's involvement with chinese culture. somehow it was inspirational to know that they are asian americans and so am i.
other noteworthy happenings that make me smile....a surprising wake-up call (so thoughtful!), Farm-friend's sweetness and rabbit pate, r. miller baby!, dS' considerate scary-link-advice, someone's gullibility in revealing some hush-hush info along with the subtle-yet-gentlemany etiquette, kuai 3X, first-time tennis match, different variations for "fruit," talk about pastrami in NY--flew knows it all!, race up the steps---he cheated!, rollerblades from bigsista, catch-up with jwong, and of course...t-shirt weather! *wink*
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