Friday, May 3rd
Perhaps my identity exists solely in relation to my community. To my siblings I am an older sister, to my teachers I am a student, and to the broader world I am often defined by my religion. To some I am a woman, to others, white, and to some, an abstract logician, and all of these are pieces of a fuller picture of who I am. Change my community, and you change my identity. Flushing in Queens or, as it is more commonly known, Chinatown, defines its people by an ethnicity, and it is home to a foreign country on American soil. Generalizations perforce lead to neglecting the amalgam of unique character traits belonging to an individual, and I wanted to visit Chinatown and see the people themselves. How has Chinatown remained so seperate from broader American culture, and is this what the residents of Chinatown want? Is this the identity they chose?
My trip to Chinatown began as most do, namely, by stepping off the seven. When I immerged from the subway station, I found the directions and advertisements written in both English and Mandarin. The outside platform brought passengers out into a different world. Chinatown is a hustling blend of produce markets, department stores, malls, and small specialized stores such as candy shops and nail salons. The busiest areas are found at the major intersections between streets such as Roosevelt Avenue and Main Street. The roads are crowded with shoppers, most visibly of Asian descent. Many small stands lined the sidewalks and promote political dogma or nearby yoga and meditation centers for passerby to peruse. People were constantly moving, whether older married couples or young children with markedly exhausted parents following hurriedly behind.
What was especially apparent to the American ear was the conversations on the street being conducted completely in Asian dialects. The street peddlers did not speak or seem to understand English. This was the first marker of a neighborhood formally defined by its culture. While in some immigrant neighborhoods, diversification happens naturally when national natives slowly move in, here, the language barrier would prevent any such migration. There were many advertisements for real estate and job openings that were only in Cantonese or Mandarin, and directions were not even available in English as I moved farther from the subway.
While the bigger streets had large stores and businesses, such as Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, numerous banks, and clothing stores, the side streets (38th– 41st) had many smaller shops, such as bookstores, a driving school, bakeries, and a hair salon. On the side streets, I struggled to find any English. I walked around for two hours roughly between 11:00-1:00 on a Friday, and all of the streets were bustling in this highly commercial area. There was one grassy expanse right near the end of Kissena Boulevard that children could play on, though I didn’t see any when I was there. Additionally, in the ten block radius that I surveyed, I saw about four different churches.
My first stop on my journey was the New World Mall, a popular Asian themed mall in the heart of Chinatown. Inside, I traveled through a lively market that smelled strongly of fish and had eerily inexpensive prices for fruits and vegetables. I traveled to the top floor which primarily sold clothing and accessories. Here, all of the models and mannequins were Asian and had Asian body types. The shoes sizes were smaller and dress sizes more petite as classified by the average Asian body. The storeowners here were unable to answers questions I posed in English. I was personally surprised, because while I have visited different neighborhoods classified by a single ethnicity, I have never seen a community in the United States that did not speak any English. I was particularly fascinated by some older employees in the stores who still did not know what I was saying. After having similar outcomes when trying to speak with employees on this floor and the next, I ventured to the food court on the bottom floor. Here, I was able to see authentic Asian cuisine and the culture surrounding it. People ate on wooden serving plates with forks, knives, and chopsticks. Families, friends, and coworkers seemed to be enjoying lunchtime in the New World Mall cafeteria whilst conversing in various Asian dialects. Nearly all of the stores had both Chinese and English restaurant signs, yet the all of the employees with whom I spoke could barely speak English, if at all. Only one store had a sign exclusively in English. Furthermore, there were only two non-Asian groups, one of which was a food tour guide who brought couples from the Midwest and Scandinavia to experience Asian food. I felt my minority status like a sign, and I also could not eat anything as there were no kosher options.
I visited a few more markets on the smaller streets, but I could barely get anyone to speak with me. Even though I was still in America, speaking the national language served to isolate me. I was fortunate that some people, even with broken English, tried answering some of my questions. The store workers told me their stories of immigration. Some had moved to the states to escape a life of poverty back home, while others simply believed America was a better place to build a family. There were a number of people who came without any family and hoped that after some years of working, they could support their families in making a move to the states. Due to Chinatown’s heavy isolation, it is an ideal place for new immigrant, but also hamper to learning and integrating into American culture.
I searched the streets of Chinatown for answers. The reason I chose to investigate this societal microcosm was due to what I believe is an ambiguous American perspective on cultural isolationism. On the one hand, America is a place which values and empowers different peoples from different places to celebrate their culture and not lose their history. However, our country also preaches assimilation and believes that what eventually emerges from a mixed pot is our greatest model for success. The message I’ve received is: be different, but not too different. Ultimately, when the values of personal identity and American nationality conflict, which one reigns supreme? Is Chinatown right to provide a haven for new immigrants that guarantees a community similar what existed in Asia, or, as indicated by so many people who move to the States and never learn English or move out of Chinatown, does is build a blockade too strong to dissolve?
Chinese immigrants have long been recipients of claims that immigrants steal American jobs, and this resulted in numerous immigration limitations and banns stemming back to the 19th century. While these laws are no longer in place, many anti-immigrant groups still propagate this canard. It is dangerous to label any group by one identity, as it is unlikely to be a true representation of all the individuals in that group. I found the stories of these immigrants inspiring, as so many of them abandoned their native country in hopes of attaining something greater for themselves and for their families. It seemed to me that many of the people I spoke to in Chinatown didn’t feel like they needed to choose between being Asian and being American. They wanted to achieve the American dream with their Asian culture in stride. They wanted to take from this country as much as they want to give to it. And while this too is a generalization, for me it clarified the purpose of what seems to be an isolated neighborhood in Flushing. Chinatown offers the comfort of one’s native country while providing initial resources needed for immigrants to thrive in the States. Most immigrants view Chinatown as a temporary residence until they are wealthy enough to move their family and move out. It is for this reason that new immigrants do not invest in Chinatown as a point of integration, as their goal is to eventually assimilate into mainstream American culture.
I often analyze my own identities relative to my many communities. Do I identify more with being a Jew than with being a woman? If I had to fight for one, which would I chose? The generalizations I am handed along with the traits I believe are special to me often do not coincide. Chinatown reinforces that these ideas are much more complex when looked at deeply. Though I was a noticeable minority walking the streets of Flushing, the love of one identity was as strong as the desire to acquire a new identify, namely, to flourish in America. I think it was very valuable for me to hear the stories of new immigrants firsthand to better understand the issues facing our country today. My grandparents immigrated to this country after the Holocaust and I grew up with a deep sympathy for the immigrant plight. However, seeing immigration in its modern context is extremely important in order to develop informed opinions on how immigration laws should be thought about, and how we as a country respond to cultures completely different than out own. Chinatown taught me that personal culture and Americanism do not need to conflict, and that perhaps each individual is strongest when she honors all her different identities, and thrives with that unique perspective.
