I am a child of a Chinese immigrant and a Taiwanese immigrant. My mom came to America from China in 1990, in hopes for a better life. She was 26 years old and was the first out of her siblings and parents to come here. She began her life here as a garment factory worker. Three years after my mother arrived, my father arrived here from Taiwan at 24 years old. He came after he was released from the army to reunite with and take care of his father, who was already here. Eventually, he decided to stay in America after learning to cook and worked in a restaurant. My parents met in 1994 when they went to learn English at the same place, got married in 1996, and I, their second child, was born in 1997. Being born and having lived in Brooklyn, I have always defined myself as an Asian-American or Chinese-American, but this term is too general, somewhat insignificant, and unsuccessful in defining who I am. What part of me is the Asian? What part of me is the American? How much of me is the Asian? The American? As the Asian culture in my family and the American culture in my social surroundings meet, merge, and sometimes clash, my personality and decisions slowly shift and change. It isn’t necessarily a good or bad thing, but the two cultures I closely hold to myself is what becomes my identity.

One thing that really represents my dual ethnicity is language. For as long as I remember, I’ve have always been speaking two languages throughout my daily life. Furthermore, I am bidialectal in Chinese. I grew up learning to speak in Cantonese from my parents and relatives around me. Although my family here all speak Cantonese, it is very important to my father that I learn to speak and understand Mandarin, so I could communicate with my relatives back in Taiwan. As a result, I started going to Chinese School since I was four. I remember the principal of the school refusing to accept me as a student at first because I was too young, but due to my mom’s insistence, I was accepted. I worked really hard learning how to read Mandarin and write Chinese characters. Memorizing how to write Chinese characters were the most difficult for me. Chinese characters are far more complex than the English alphabet and unlike Korean characters, where each stroke of the word means a specific letter, each Chinese character meant a specific word. There was no way to decipher each character, and even if there were simpler characters in that word, it didn’t necessarily mean it would sound similar. There were many incidents when I would cry on my mother’s bed the morning of Chinese school because I couldn’t remember how to write all twenty of the new vocabulary words for the test on that day. Even at this point, I am not fluent in Mandarin, nor am I very good at writing Chinese characters, but I always find myself thinking or reading in Mandarin while I’m texting my parents or reading a Chinese article. I’ve come to learn that language is a really important part of my life because it allows me to maneuver through various situations and places.

My mother when she first arrived to America in 1990

Compared to how often I speak Chinese outside of my house now, I used to hate speaking in Chinese in public places. I worked hard to learn to speak in my parents’ native languages, but I was still embarrassed with my culture. Whenever my mom spoke to me in Chinese when we were taking the train or at my school for a parent-teacher conference, I would always reply in English. If she didn’t understand what I was saying, I would get really annoyed with her. I didn’t want to be seen as an immigrant to other people. Eventually I’ve come to terms with speaking Chinese in public. When walking through Chinatown, people would see me differently if I spoke in Chinese. I went into a restaurant to order takeout with my cousin and the workers were actually impressed that we could speak Chinese and use chopsticks. To them, it shows that I didn’t lose my Chinese touch. Being able to use Chinese makes me proud and it sets me apart from the Chinese-Americans who cannot speak Chinese. Without English, I wouldn’t be able to survive living and going to school in America, but without Chinese, I would not be able to communicate with many of my relatives or walk the streets in China or Taiwan with ease. Chinese is especially important to me because it is my daily connection to the Chinese culture. I can not express that I am Chinese in any other way more than using Chinese in my everyday conversations. Although it contrasts with the English that I am expected to be able to speak fluently in America, without Chinese, my identity now would not be complete.

My father when he first arrived to America in 1993

Aside from having to learn to embrace the Chinese language in America, finding my identity in other aspects was difficult for me as I grew up. A choice that always conflicted in my mind was my plans for a career. As I was growing up, I was told by my father that I had to be a doctor, because being a doctor was the only way to be recognized and praised in my family. In Asian culture, females held less authority than males did and I’ve been told many times that I and my sister will always marry out of my family while my brother will marry someone in. Thus, I was determined to make my father proud by doing what he wanted me to do. But, in school, I had been told to do what I wanted to do and to do what makes me happy. So in my mind, I always thought that I wanted to become a doctor because it was what made me happy. Only recently did I realize that being a doctor wasn’t particularly my dream for myself, but rather my father’s dream for me, and I only thought it would make me happy because I knew happiness and praise would come to me after my family was satisfied with my career choice. Now, I have thoughts of being a cosmetic chemist because it’s become my dream for myself. In this case, my American culture had more of an impact in my choices than my Asian culture did. However, I still have second thoughts about it. I constantly worry about me doing something that is generally uncommon because I still want to be the daughter that will make my parents proud. It might take a while, but I think I’ll be able to overcome these negative thoughts in my head and make my parents proud while doing something I love by showing them my determination and my passion that springs from both my American culture and my Chinese culture.

竹 (Bamboo)

Being an Asian born in America, I hear the phrase 竹升 (pronounced jook sing in Cantonese) used many times to describe me. 竹 is the Chinese character for bamboo. Bamboo has hollow compartments and 竹升 is the phrase used to describe the empty space between each compartment. This phrase is used to describe me and other Chinese Americans because we are connected to both Chinese and American culture. Sometimes, my relatives use this phrase to jokingly tease me when I don’t understand certain cultural references, but it’s an accurate phrase used to describe me. My parents came to America and decided that living in America will be better suited for their children. What resulted from that is me, a 竹升, and being that, I am able to connect to and be a part of two different cultures. That’s just who I am and I’m pretty proud of it.