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Student Union
Frances Won |
Whatever your heritage,
just share it with prideWhen asked by my fourth-grade Language Arts teacher what my culture and language were, I naively said that I was Hawaiian, since I had grown up in Hawaii, American because I spoke American English and Chinese because my mother told me I was Chinese.
I am not Caucasian, nor am I remotely Hawaiian. I am full Chinese, although I vaguely remember my family's native country. I grew accustomed to the atmosphere of Hawaii and have conformed to the American lifestyle. I grew up thinking that to succeed I had to act and look "American"; that beauty was defined by golden-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, so for a long time I was ashamed of my true ancestry.
What bred these negative sentiments toward my Chinese birthright can be traced to an experience I had when my grandmother and I made a trip to her neighborhood grocery store in Kalihi. I was 5 years old and my grandmother walked with me across the street to buy oranges. She instructed me in Chinese to place our bag of carefully selected oranges onto the conveyor belt and then to lay down a divider for the person behind us.
Before I could do as I was told, the cashier began to violently shout at my grandmother. I couldn't make out most of the words but from what I gathered, she had reprimanded my grandmother for speaking Chinese in America. Mortified, I dropped the oranges and they spilled across the floor. Feeling helpless, my initial impulse was to cry. My grandmother firmly took my hand and we exited the store without purchasing anything.
We walked away quickly. Our hearts were racing, our heads bowed and our eyes facing the ground in shame. I promised myself I would never speak Chinese in America again.
As I grew older, I began to hate everything about me that suggested that I was Chinese -- my jade bracelet, my gold necklace, my bangs, my black hair and my round face. During middle school I bleached my hair, put away my jade bracelet and gold necklace, grew out my bangs and strived to excel in English.
Whenever my grandmother invited me out to "yum cha" -- eat Chinese dim sum -- I would refuse. When my mother asked me to visit the Chinese temple to pray, I would indignantly answer with "I'm not Buddhist! I'm American and I believe in God!" Every part of my Chinese heritage was slowly disappearing.
During a car ride home, my mother asked me, "Why are you so ashamed of being Chinese?" Her question took me by surprise. I didn't realize what I was doing, or how much I was hurting my family. Worst of all, I couldn't remember why. I couldn't answer my mother.
"You are Chinese Kei Lin, never forget that," she said.
Things changed when I became involved with the Tzu Chi youth group during my sophomore year of high school. There, I interacted with Chinese and Taiwanese doctors who ran free medical clinics using Chinese herbs to treat ailments.
They were mothers who enthusiastically offered to cook Chinese dishes to sell at charity events. They were kind-hearted youths who visited nursing homes and shared their culture through song and dance. They made a difference in the lives of others while incorporating their cultural practices into the process. I began to feel ashamed and ignorant. This is who I was.
I dyed my hair back to black and put my necklace back on. And I am as determined as ever to speak perfect Mandarin.
At a recent charitable event for Tzu Chi, I invited my grandmother and mother to observe at the Cultural Plaza. I helped sell Chinese jai, a vegetarian dish, and performed a Chinese sign-language dance on the Moon Gate stage. While I was cleaning up during closing time my grandmother approached to tell me she was proud of me.
"Shei shei," I said, thanking her in Chinese, and she smiled.
I am proud to be able to use chopstick, I am proud to be bilingual in English and Cantonese and I am proud of my Asian eyes. They help make me who I am.
Every individual is born into a unique ancestral culture. Rather than shun it, they should cultivate their knowledge of and involvement with their culture. People with multicultural backgrounds should explore their heritages, perceive them as qualities -- not flaws -- and be proud of what they are.
Frances Won, a Moanalua High School senior, is a staff writer for the school newspaper.
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