B****n
发帖数: 1404 | 1 很好的一篇文章讲ABC成长中的struggle。
==============
https://www.michigandaily.com/opinion/michigan-color-american-plus-chinese
By Carlina Duan, Magazine Editor
Published February 2, 2014
When I was eleven, I was called a Chink by three boys at a water park. I was
wearing my favorite blue Nike suit, had just gotten my first period a month
before, and adored my fish tank of silver guppies, which swam mercilessly
back and forth through a sleeve of cool water each night.
I didn’t understand race, and I didn’t understand love.
What I understood was that on Multi-Culti Day in the sixth grade, my mother
had made six containers of dumplings for my class. The moisture had
condensed on the Tupperware lids in shameful, wet circles; Casey had
wrinkled his nose and asked, “What’s that smell?”
What I understood was that I smelled differently. I wasn’t allowed to shave
my legs, I didn’t know how to translate “deodorant” into Mandarin, and
my favorite meal involved pouring cheddar cheese Goldfish crackers on top of
a bowl of rice.
Still, I waved the American flag. Still, I loved comic books and strawberry
popsicles. At home, my mother spoke to me in Mandarin and I responded back
in English. As an American-born girl of eleven, we had a system. In public,
I became the mom — checking out our library books, enunciating English
words for her at Kroger’s, translating Mapquest directions so she’d swerve
left onto Newport Road. I was the one who taught my mom how to make
macaroni and cheese. I told her what to write to my teachers when I was sick
and couldn’t come to class. We fell into familiar rhythm. Eventually, she
stopped using her Chinese-to-English dictionary and started resorting to me:
“You’re the expert,” she’d say, “I don’t know anything.”
At some point along the way, I lost my Chinese.
Chinese, my first language, gradually became my lost language. Born in
Seattle to parents who had emigrated from China, I attended preschool in Ann
Arbor with almost no knowledge of English. I was placed in a toddler’s ESL
class, where we bound picture books in sparkly pink wrapping paper, and I
learned the language through flashcards: A IS FOR APPLE, M IS FOR MILK.
At home, then, the rules were softened. As a kid, I’d persuade my mother
into buying us “normal” food: vanilla wafers drenched in icing, chicken
nuggets, wide hunks of pepper jack cheese. I reprimanded her for braiding my
hair with Hello Kitty elastics. All the white girls at my school used
simple hair bands of neon blues, pinks. My mother went to Meijer and bought
me a jumbo pack of black hair scrunchies the next day. I called my mother a
bitch when we fought, mostly out of cruel spite. I knew she wouldn’t
understand the curse word. After all, I was the wise, cultured American. She
was just the Chinese mom who listened out of love, out of a desire to see
her kid not get bullied in a school system that was predominantly white. In
retrospect, the games I played as a kid must have been humiliating for my
mother: a brilliant woman who’d studied agriculture in college, mastered
Japanese, loved butterflies and the smell of lavender perfume.
With my mom, I cultivated a sense of authority that I couldn’t fully grasp
in the classroom. Placed next to my all-American friends with mothers who
understood that mustard was not a salad dressing, but a condiment; that hot
dogs were not literally heated animals with tails; that tampons were more
popular than pads … I’d never be the expert.
In school, I was shy. Ate white breads, tossed dumplings in the trash can,
raised my hand only when I was sure I could pronounce unknown words exactly
right. Played it safe, partly because I was afraid to lose the wicked sense
of authority I’d cultivated at home.
Growing up as a minority, I found independence in these mottled, urgent ways
. At a water park, at age eleven, being called a Chink was just another new
occasion for me to disassemble and learn the English language. To claim it
in all its pricking points of ugliness. To be bullied and loved,
relentlessly, by the alphabet. Chink, Chigga. Banana. Twinkie. F.O.B. What
my Chinese mother could never teach me, I had to learn and seize on my own.
What’s more, I felt fiercely protective and embarrassed by her. In the U.S.
, she was vulnerable, sometimes timid, girlish. Couldn’t hold the language.
My job as her American-born daughter was not only to teach, but to also
defend.
In middle school, “Yo Mama” jokes infuriated me. My mother was so Chinese
she couldn’t eat a hamburger without pinching her nose. She was so Chinese
she wore bamboo slippers, pickled sea cucumbers, fried rice. But she was
also a badass. Mowed our lawn every week, fixed the broken roof herself.
Knit scarves, baked bread. Climbed ladders. Sacrificed her Chinese
citizenship for an American passport — not out of duty to the country, but
out of duty to my sister and me. “I want to live in the same country as you
when I’m older,” she said. At my high school graduation, she recited the
Pledge of Allegiance with her left hand over her chest, beaming.
I’ve often been told I’m a part of the “nice” race, the “model minority
.” At times, it’s assumed that what I do well, I do because I’m Asian —
not because I was raised by one of the strongest, most intelligent women I
know. It’s frustrating when I find myself settling into these expectations.
Annoying when I find myself hyper-aware when breaking out of them. I am a
daughter of immigrant parents, and I am infinitely dimensional, in-love, in-
pain, exhausted, roaming. Growing up. Chinese is my blood, and in a way, it
defines many of my decisions and my movements through this world. But it
does not lay the entire groundwork for what I choose to chase, demolish —
what I choose to give, or give up.
At Pizza House last year, I was told half-jokingly, “You’re like our token
Asian friend!” Pepperoni circles swam in rainbow grease, and I sizzled. I
’m not — and will never be — anybody’s token anything. I’m my mother’s
daughter, and I’m my own brain, my own bossy heart. In high school, I was
encouraged to pursue a career as an English professor because “You’ve got
that whole Asian thing going for you. You stand out!” As a Chinese-American
woman, I have been exoticized, categorized and stereotyped by friends,
peers, strangers, teachers, co-workers, crushes. My Chinese mother has been
called “cute” when she stutters in English. We’ve both been sliced up.
Being angry about racial inequality is easy. Navigating, processing, and
articulating race — that’s hard. It’s a project I don’t know how to
undertake without stammering, fearful to offend … even as a woman of color,
talking about my race feels bulky and terrifying. As a Chinese-American, I
feel frequently caught in liminal space, floating in-between myth and a self
-inflicted series of rules.
I am frequently asked, “Where are you really from?” and I’m always quick
to respond, almost heatedly, “Here.” I was born on American soil. I love
this country, with its chocolate creams and dirty politicians and bodies of
saltwater. But I am also indebted to my mother, and to her country, which
both is and isn’t my own. As my mother’s daughter, I am built with her
history of red stamps, her girlhood during the Cultural Revolution, her
brick walls. Our sacrifice, our shame. I am American, plus Chinese. That
identity is plural, stretched. Beautiful weight. And that love. It’s plural
, too. | u*****a
发帖数: 6276 | 2 写得挺好的。不容易。但写更多的是无奈，而缺乏跳出怪圈的启迪。而且，用 I 起头
的句子太多了点。 | J*******p
发帖数: 1129 | 3
本来就是个人感悟吧，写得是不错。至少看得出，母女感情挺好。
说到语言，这版上的父母英语交流有问题的，还是很少的吧。
【在 u*****a 的大作中提到】
: 写得挺好的。不容易。但写更多的是无奈，而缺乏跳出怪圈的启迪。而且，用 I 起头
: 的句子太多了点。
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 4 才看见这片。
我们老二最近不愿意带小饺子了。mmmm...i wonder why..
嗨，you mama的joke太残酷了。
【在 J*******p 的大作中提到】
:
: 本来就是个人感悟吧，写得是不错。至少看得出，母女感情挺好。
: 说到语言，这版上的父母英语交流有问题的，还是很少的吧。
| s******r
发帖数: 2876 | 5 看起来是单亲，整篇没有提到父亲。
was
month
【在 B****n 的大作中提到】
: 很好的一篇文章讲ABC成长中的struggle。
: ==============
: https://www.michigandaily.com/opinion/michigan-color-american-plus-chinese
: By Carlina Duan, Magazine Editor
: Published February 2, 2014
: When I was eleven, I was called a Chink by three boys at a water park. I was
: wearing my favorite blue Nike suit, had just gotten my first period a month
: before, and adored my fish tank of silver guppies, which swam mercilessly
: back and forth through a sleeve of cool water each night.
: I didn’t understand race, and I didn’t understand love.
| d*******e
发帖数: 863 | 6 其实说起来也挺 common sense 的，我老公也是不愿意带味道大的饭菜，他还自己办公
室呢。我家娃儿不吃 school lunch 的时候，我也都是在外边买了午饭给她送去，还省
事儿了呢。
【在 d****g 的大作中提到】
: 才看见这片。
: 我们老二最近不愿意带小饺子了。mmmm...i wonder why..
: 嗨，you mama的joke太残酷了。
| d*******e
发帖数: 863 | 7 嗯，跟我看了以后第一感觉类似：写得不错，但是好像不是那么典型吧，咱就说这版上
的父母。
【在 J*******p 的大作中提到】
:
: 本来就是个人感悟吧，写得是不错。至少看得出，母女感情挺好。
: 说到语言，这版上的父母英语交流有问题的，还是很少的吧。
| p****r
发帖数: 141 | 8 没谱的事儿，别在这胡咧咧行不行
https://www.michigandaily.com/blog/filter/carlina-china
Since I was three, I've visited the city of Qingdao, China every few years.
I have grandparents and numerous cousins, uncles, aunts that populate this
city's apartment buildings, its schools, its grocery stores filled with pink
fruits and cakey breads. My father's family has been in this city for
generations, while my mother's father migrated here from Changzhou, a city
in the northern region of China, in the early 1900s.
【在 s******r 的大作中提到】
: 看起来是单亲，整篇没有提到父亲。
:
: was
: month
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 9 你觉得你孩子永不会被叫banana?
【在 d*******e 的大作中提到】
: 嗯，跟我看了以后第一感觉类似：写得不错，但是好像不是那么典型吧，咱就说这版上
: 的父母。
| d*******e
发帖数: 863 | 10 我当然不能保证别人会不会做什么事，我只能保证如果有人这样做，我家孩子不会被伤
害；她有朋友们的 support，只会让说这话的人 in trouble、feel ashamed，同时
learn a lesson from it。
家长能做的，是让孩子作为中国人而自豪，就不怕别人说什么了。即使有人说了不好听
的话，只能说是说话的人层次太低，不当她/他朋友就是了，decent 的朋友很多，不跟
渣滓一般见识。
如果能让孩子自豪，家长自己得从内心深处就有自豪感。我觉得这 BBS 上多数人还是
有这个素质的吧。
【在 d****g 的大作中提到】
: 你觉得你孩子永不会被叫banana?
| | | l*********s
发帖数: 1183 | 11 写得太好了 ...
was
month
【在 B****n 的大作中提到】
: 很好的一篇文章讲ABC成长中的struggle。
: ==============
: https://www.michigandaily.com/opinion/michigan-color-american-plus-chinese
: By Carlina Duan, Magazine Editor
: Published February 2, 2014
: When I was eleven, I was called a Chink by three boys at a water park. I was
: wearing my favorite blue Nike suit, had just gotten my first period a month
: before, and adored my fish tank of silver guppies, which swam mercilessly
: back and forth through a sleeve of cool water each night.
: I didn’t understand race, and I didn’t understand love.
| u*********e
发帖数: 9616 | 12 其实伤害了也就伤害了。谁能保证一辈子不被伤害？不因为种族被叫外号，还可以因为
身材，长相，行为举止被嘲笑被bully.其实原作者因为这个所以很agressive,算是因为
嘲笑反而抗争锻炼了性格呢。
【在 d****g 的大作中提到】
: 你觉得你孩子永不会被叫banana?
| T*****u
发帖数: 7103 | 13 靠，我今天带的干煸肥肠，可能伤害了主流社会的心，看来需要检讨一下了。 | N****n
发帖数: 4179 | 14 我朋友的女儿，全班就她一个亚洲女孩。小姑娘喜欢吃猪耳朵，要求妈妈午饭给她带。
班里有别的小朋友问她那是啥，她说猪耳朵。那个小朋友说好恶心。她对着人家：你吃
都没吃过，怎么就知道恶心？
这个小姑娘在学校非常受欢迎，同学有生日party都抢着请她去。
不同有什么？自己内心强大就不怕不同。本来美国就是个移民国家。不同多了去了。
【在 T*****u 的大作中提到】
: 靠，我今天带的干煸肥肠，可能伤害了主流社会的心，看来需要检讨一下了。
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 15 我还在公司啃鸡爪子呢！啧吧！再嗖啰嗦啰手指头。
【在 T*****u 的大作中提到】
: 靠，我今天带的干煸肥肠，可能伤害了主流社会的心，看来需要检讨一下了。
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 16 套用一句俗话：it is what it is. nothing less, nothing more.
【在 u*********e 的大作中提到】
: 其实伤害了也就伤害了。谁能保证一辈子不被伤害？不因为种族被叫外号，还可以因为
: 身材，长相，行为举止被嘲笑被bully.其实原作者因为这个所以很agressive,算是因为
: 嘲笑反而抗争锻炼了性格呢。
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 17 该带带。但这个女孩的家长随口提个醒，孩子就不用be surprised了。
【在 N****n 的大作中提到】
: 我朋友的女儿，全班就她一个亚洲女孩。小姑娘喜欢吃猪耳朵，要求妈妈午饭给她带。
: 班里有别的小朋友问她那是啥，她说猪耳朵。那个小朋友说好恶心。她对着人家：你吃
: 都没吃过，怎么就知道恶心？
: 这个小姑娘在学校非常受欢迎，同学有生日party都抢着请她去。
: 不同有什么？自己内心强大就不怕不同。本来美国就是个移民国家。不同多了去了。
| N****n
发帖数: 4179 | 18 呃，你哪里看出来人家女孩对同学的反应惊讶了？人家小姑娘压根不在乎她同学啥反应。
【在 d****g 的大作中提到】
: 该带带。但这个女孩的家长随口提个醒，孩子就不用be surprised了。
| d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 19 你是小咕娘肚子里的回虫？
应。
【在 N****n 的大作中提到】
: 呃，你哪里看出来人家女孩对同学的反应惊讶了？人家小姑娘压根不在乎她同学啥反应。
| h****n
发帖数: 2250 | 20 这不是明摆这的么。人家小姑娘根本就不鸟那个butterfly。
不管你和别人有什么不同，别人是否接受，只要不买账，他就的按照你的规矩来。美国
人就买这种内心强大的人的账，那叫"cool!"
【在 d****g 的大作中提到】
: 你是小咕娘肚子里的回虫？
:
: 应。
| | | h****n
发帖数: 2250 | 21 所以更要积极参政，给华裔孩子创造良好的生存环境，他们才能成长的自信，自豪。 | d****g
发帖数: 7460 | 22 嗯！还真是。很punk! 或 gothic. it is like 你不喜欢？f$ck you! 你甭说，这真
是个思路，我还真没这么想过。有点 confrontational tho.
【在 h****n 的大作中提到】
: 这不是明摆这的么。人家小姑娘根本就不鸟那个butterfly。
: 不管你和别人有什么不同，别人是否接受，只要不买账，他就的按照你的规矩来。美国
: 人就买这种内心强大的人的账，那叫"cool!"
| x*******a
发帖数: 11067 | 23 写的不错。热饺子的味道的确很大，能不带就不要带吧。
was
month
【在 B****n 的大作中提到】
: 很好的一篇文章讲ABC成长中的struggle。
: ==============
: https://www.michigandaily.com/opinion/michigan-color-american-plus-chinese
: By Carlina Duan, Magazine Editor
: Published February 2, 2014
: When I was eleven, I was called a Chink by three boys at a water park. I was
: wearing my favorite blue Nike suit, had just gotten my first period a month
: before, and adored my fish tank of silver guppies, which swam mercilessly
: back and forth through a sleeve of cool water each night.
: I didn’t understand race, and I didn’t understand love.
|
|
