Low on the Go!

on being chinese pt.2
(read part 1 here)

Going to houses of other chinese friends was always very awkward. "Lei ho ma?" (How are you?), parents would always ask in Cantonese, followed by, "Lei sec dzo fan mei a?" (Have you eaten?), and my friends would turn to them and say, "she doesn't speak Chinese", and their parents would cluck with disapproval and tell me that I was Chinese and I should learn Chinese.
I used to hold back my tongue and refrain from telling them that they weren't speaking a real language either, just a dialect, and that at least I spoke and understood SOME Mandarin. I would also refrain from telling them that I held a Canadian passport and spoke English and French, and that they should at least learn one or both, if they were going to live in Canada. (Yes, I had/have a very feisty, prideful spirit.)

For a pre-teen, this was what being Chinese meant to me. My skin, eye and hair colour only served to remind me of my failure of living up to the culture I had genetically inherited. Though I had learned and adopted many traditional Chinese mannerisms, these were never good enough to outweigh my lack of language abilities. Even being good in school and skipping a grade wasn't enough for parents of friends to qualify me as a good kid. In fact, it only served to exacerbate their dislike for me; I was not a friend to play with, I was their child's competition. No amount of cajolery would win their favour.

When I was in grade 6, everyone at my church started wearing Club Monaco sweatshirts. They were hip and were the Birkin bag of the day. Desperately wanting to fit in, I pleaded my parents to buy me one. They were a status symbol amongst Chinese kids, and Chinese parents at my church would willingly shell out the money to ensure that their kids had what every other kid wanted. My parents refused to buy me one; "We don't know what it is about Chinese kids and brand name clothing, but we are raising you to go to church on Sundays and love God, not compete over who can have expensive clothing," they would always say.

Though my parents were (and are) very counter-cultural, they did instill in me many traditional Chinese values that I still uphold to this day. Some are more superficial; when I am eating with other families or a mixed-age group, I follow tradition, and do not put anything in my mouth until the people older than me have begun to eat. I call every Chinese married man or woman "Uncle" or "Auntie", and every white man or woman "Mr." or "Mrs.". In fact, to this day, calling friends' parents by their first names is difficult for me. I often find it difficult communicating with people who are much older than me, because in traditional Chinese culture, as a child or a youth, it is important to be seen, but not heard. Other traditions have been engrained deeply into me. I have a deep sense of work ethic and perfectionism. As a child, I would come home from school, do my math homework (kumon!) and then practice two hours of violin and two hours of piano. Loyalty is very important, amongst family and friends, and i hold these things close to my heart.

Despite having picked up many of these traditions, many of which my other Chinese friends have not retained, I never felt acutely Chinese. At least, not until High School. But, this'll have to wait for another day. It's time for bed.

Oh, and I did eventually end up getting a Club Monaco shirt. We bought it in the States for a quarter of the price. But, by then it was about two years too late. Now, whenever I go home to Edmonton, I wear it as my pyjamas.