I am Chinese
On abandoning my heritage and finding it again
I wrote this piece 2 years ago for my blog. It’s one of two pieces where I openly spoke about my race. I was reminded of them after reading Yi Xue’s An Immigrant's Journey Through Corporate America. I felt inspired and motivated to resurface them. Though time has passed, the feelings for change have never felt stronger.
Full transparency - writing this makes me feel anxious and nervous but between posting last week’s blog on authenticity and ushering in the Lunar New Year this week, it’s important to show up and share my musings on being Chinese American.
Last year I read Celeste Ng’s Everything I Never Told You and I felt so seen and heard through her character James.
“He had never felt he belonged here even though he’d been born on American soil.”
He was bullied and isolated growing up for looking and being different. In response, he spent his life blending in.
Blending in. Those two words represent my experience too. I’ve spent my life blending in like a top notch concealer.
The first experience I can fuzzily recall happened in elementary school in Clifton Park, New York. We were the only Asian family that I knew of in our area. A little boy asked me why my eyes look the way they do, adding that I was ugly. It was that moment that made me so conscious and aware of my physical appearance. I had a physical reaction that I came to learn was shame.
From there, the blending began. Like James in Everything I Never Told You, I learned as much as I could about American culture - what my peers watched, what they ate, what they wore, what they listened to and the list goes on.
In elementary school, my dad even changed our last name, HU, to HUE. I was too young to understand that he anglicized our last name. He changed it so it was easier for people to pronounce. I didn’t complain at the time because that meant people would stop making fun of me by asking me HU (pronounced like who) I was.
I wanted to shed my Chinese culture faster than a polyester suit on a 100 degree day. While other kids were being told “why fit in when you were born to stand out?” (Dr. Seuss) I was over here standing out trying to fit in. I had a lot of work to do given my physical appearance set me back in the ‘blending in’ game. So I spent a lot of time crafting ‘stories’ aka lies about my family and the things we did to appear ‘normal’ just like everyone else. And this went on into adulthood.
Lying is a full-time job and gosh darn it, it is exhausting AF. But situations like being asked where I was from because I didn’t have an accent or being the first one to make a self-deprecating race related joke about myself made it easier to lie, blend in so I didn’t have to stand out even more. If I never looked into a mirror, I would have confused myself for a white girl. That was how detached I was from being Chinese. I was perfectly content trying to be the token wannabe white Asian girl in the group…
Until I brought my daughter into the world.
When I look into her eyes, I see the future. I see power, courage and strength. The tenacity to light a fire and blaze a path forward in a job or industry where she doesn’t see anyone who looks like her. I see the possibility of being whoever she chooses to be because that’s her heart’s desire. I see the beauty of her face, the shape of her eyes. I see individuality… “why fit in when you were born to stand out?” I see the vulnerability of showing up as her authentic self. I see the curiosity of exploring and learning. I see the love for her culture, other cultures, the environment, family, friends and most importantly herself.
I want my girl to grow up seeing herself the way I see her. I want her to know that she need not show up as anyone but herself. I want her to stand tall and show up as the strong, courageous, powerful, beautiful Chinese soul that she is. And just because she is Chinese does not mean the world holds any less possibilities for her.
Each day as I watch her mimic my actions, I realize it’s not enough to tell her these things. I have to SHOW her. And just like that my sweet girl is already the toughest teacher I’ve ever had the pleasure of learning from. In the process of showing up for her, I am seeing that I’m showing up for myself. For my little girl Stephanie who felt like she had to abandon the biggest part of herself to feel accepted and safe.
So this is for anyone who has ever felt like they had to suppress and hide themselves in order to have community. I see you. I hear you. I honor you. I am sorry for the pain you have experienced and may still be experiencing. While it may take our lifetimes to unlearn and heal, you are not alone. My wish for you is to come home to yourself. Don’t be the good concealer and blend in, be the neon glittery eyeshadow and stand out!
In the second grade, when my family moved from Trinidad to St. Croix, I was told that I had a bad accent (theirs were worst than mine, actually), but it made me feel self conscious, so I started trying to speak without an accent--and at some point succeeded because I was later requested for a phone job because I "didn't have an accent." Of course, the accent returns when I am chatting with family, but I do get the feeling the need to blend in game.
Hi Steph, I hear you, and I SO get it, and yet I confess I've walked my path between several prescribed cultural worlds, definitions and labels since I was a kid, for a whole host of reasons, events and 'disruptions' as Bruce Feiler calls them.
I wrote this today in response to Emma's thread on Ageism, which shares some of my perspectives - https://substack.com/@carermentor/note/c-50097515?utm_source=notes-share-action&r=a9y7d)
I didn't 'fit' or feel comfortable for a long time...until I did. I found my path and people. I've subscribed to your publication and hope you can subscribe back. I think we can exchange and explore more insights.