on getting older but not old enough

Nothing particularly significant today, but my mood is really terrible regardless. I am feeling particularly surly and uncharitable with nothing specific to pin it on - perhaps it's the cumulation of small things.

I think I'm old at times. Especially lately, with people graduating undergrad and making all these posts about how it's the end of an era, how they'll never again have these easy times with friends, drunken jokes, late nights, a certain kind of freedom from any real-world responsibilities, and so on. It's familiar, the kind of thing college graduates have been saying for probably centuries (or at least decades, if we're allowing for the evolution of popular undergrad experiences to what it is today). Yet these posts make me feel my age, because these are people I consider my equals, close to me in age, but I forget that they are younger. Most of the time it doesn't matter, until posts like these make me realize I left undergrad three years ago. Not this year or last year, but three years ago. It's not such a huge amount of time but it drives home, nonetheless, that a certain sect of my friends are all younger than me - some of them significantly younger than me. Why am I not as close with the friends who are older? It's probably because I'm still incredibly immature inside. Not to say that anyone younger in years is automatically more immature, but that I still feel incredibly young, inexperienced, irresponsible, and immature remains true.

My parents are getting old. Not just older, but old. The meds they have to take, their health worries... The way they are surprised by their own ages each year, the way they are tired, the way my mom hates it a little bit - all of it makes me ashamed that I can't be more grown-up, more adult, more capable of taking care of myself and taking care of them.

People both older and younger tell me I'm still young. What am I supposed to say? In some ways, it's not true. Twenty-four this year is not that young. In some ways, it is. There's still a lot of my life left (presumably). I still have so far to go.

*

I just got back from a walk with my mom; we had a good discussion (read: heated argument that resolved into a good discussion) about Asians in America, first generation of immigrants versus their Westernized (but still Asian-influenced) children, political representation, minority status, speaking out, working hard, changing the world... I used to be afraid I would be like my parents when I grew up. Then I was afraid I wouldn't be, that I wouldn't be Asian enough. Now, I think I am more at peace with the fact that I will be different in some ways (ways that I am grateful for), many ways, perhaps - but that doesn't mean I will ever forget where my roots are.

My Asian-American identity is one I am wrestling with better than my age. We fight a lot of battles with ourselves, don't we?

The Last Airbender: a fucking disgrace.

When you choose to pay to see The Last Airbender, you are paying to support institutionalized racism. If you don't get why, ask me. If you're going to see it anyway, knowing why it's problematic, you are effectively telling me that my experiences - my feelings and stories and LIFE - as a minority are secondary to your 2 hours of whitewashed entertainment.



And now for the emotional response:

I wish people were not so fucking ignorant and lazy and would take the time to educate themselves when they see that someone is really upset about something and maybe think, hey, I should check out why they're so upset not just be like "lol why are you upset, PLEASE EXPLAIN THINGS TO ME BC I AM NOT MOTIVATED ENOUGH TO LEARN ON MY OWN". And I know I'm just angry & hurt right now, I know that if we want to really educate people on WHY SOME SHIT SUCKS we really (unfairly) have to do that reaching out, but right now I am just so fucking tired of it, tired of people wallowing lazily in their own privilege and ignorance and not taking the initiative to maybe learn some shit on their own. TLA is seriously affecting me more than I thought it would. At first it was just a cause, a signal boost, to get people aware of the problems and how not okay it was, but somehow now it's personal and hearing people's arguments defending it and accusing people who care of reverse racism and being too sensitive and dismissing our feelings & experiences & EVERYTHING - now it just hurts. I'm not just angry, I am fucking personally hurt. /over-emotional, possibly teary right now, fuck.

I sort of expect to be disappointed by everyone in the world right now, including people I AM close with. Just, fuck, it still hurts. It's personal. It's them essentially saying "I don't care about YOU", I don't think your opinions are valid, I am not going to listen to what you say because I like my ignorance or my privilege just fine.

In fact, I just got an email from some friends I was making plans to see Twilight/Eclipse with (drunkenly to mock) and they said, "Sorry to change the subject but I'll be watching TLA this weekend, if any of you want to join" and I sort of am this close to tears right now. Fuck. They're so so informed on gay rights/feminist issues, some of them ARE PoC, I can't believe they haven't heard the crap about this movie. I can't believe it. I emailed them back with links and basically begging them to not go see it but, dear God, I can't deal with this. How are people so willingly to be blind to these things? I am so upset; this is so fucking personal, and I DARE anyone to tell me not to care or not care so much or that it's not a big deal. I can't deal with this right now.

champagne apocalypse: oh god k i'm still worked up about tla right now
champagne apocalypse: angry/hurt slkghfj i don't even want to talk to people rn bc i know i wouldn't be rational
champagne apocalypse: i'd just be like SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP also FUCK YOU
champagne apocalypse: aslgdkh & that's not exactly productive
champagne apocalypse: this REALLY brings home to me how shitty the tone argument is though
champagne apocalypse: basically saying i'm not going to listen to you can't be polite & rational about it. WELL FUCK YOU this is personal, this hurts, this makes me angry and upset and emotional. thanks for trivializing that and saying i should just get over it if i want to convince you that my opinions & feelings are legitimate.

Eating lunch, taking a nap, I don't even fucking know. Don't talk to me.

what do you know of your past?

I would have an intellectual discussion on Mao but I never feel like I am informed enough; I'd prefer that other educated and informed individuals hold a conversation or discussion and let me listen in and learn. The most I can contribute, I feel, is personal experience and feelings: how I feel regarding certain issues, how people I know or have observed have felt regarding certain issues, and so on.

This pondering stemmed from an article on an artist's controversial dressing of her baby daughter in outfits depicting, and I quote, "the most evil historical figures of the 20th century". The figures included: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Ayatollah Khomeini, Chairman Mao Zedong, Idi Amin, Augusto Pinochet, and Slobodan Milosevic. (Mind, this is for art, which in my mind allows it some leeway. Also, the shallow side of me finds the baby-in-the-Mao-outfit pretty adorable, but that may be the maternal instinct and the Asian bias.)

So my question is: Is Mao considered one of the "most evil historical figures of the 20th century" to a level that makes him comparable to Hitler and Stalin?

I will be the first to admit that he was an idealist and made a lot of misguided attempts at governing that ended in dismal, nigh catastrophic, failure. Many, many millions of people suffered the consequences of his actions.

But I cannot seem to reconcile what I know of him - what I know of Chinese people and their opinions on him - with the Clearly Evil label that the West seems too happy to slap on him. Was he a dictator? Did he commit mass genocide? Did he start or perpetuate a world war? Oppress and starve his people? Not to my knowledge (and my disclaimer is, I humbly recognize, that my knowledge is incomplete and limited).

The majority of the negative opinions directed at him from the West is, as far as I can tell, based almost solely on the fact that he is seen as a figurehead closely tied to Communism. And Communism is Evil. Therefore, Mao is Evil.

One friend, Chinese*, answered my query: "To me, he is. He might have started out with good intentions but he went totally insane."

Another friend, also Chinese**, replied: "No." She qualified it by adding, paraphrased, that although the West seems quick to brand him evil, so much of China seems to like, respect, or otherwise admire him - as if he's done something good. And that, to her, matters. The opinions of the people he was ruling, who would be the ones to most directly suffer the consequences of his actions, matters. And I think it should. To quote her again: "There's only so much ~brainwashing~ can do."

These are things I wonder.

Related to this, but tangentially, the article I linked has a poll. The optional answers to the question "Do you find Baby Hitler offensive?" are: (1) Yes. It's a horrible thing to do to a baby.; (2) No. It's a harmless expression of art.; and (3) Not sure.

Dear New York Daily News:

Yes, I find the outfit on the baby offensive - not the baby herself - because of the ugliness of Hitler's actions and on behalf of all the people who suffered his actions. Not because it's a horrible thing to do to a baby. Why on earth would you think that the baby is the victim here?

Though I can't say I'm terribly supportive of you calling her "Baby Hitler".

Bemused by the misplacing of your priorities when questioning things that are PC,

Mei

So this is food for thought for the moment, while I study for my Korean midterm tomorrow and discuss with various people (again) the utter mediocrity of Burton's Alice in Wonderland. I feel like he's overrated as a director, which is sad, because the visuals are amazing and most of the key actors (save Alice) put in great performances - but that all falls well short of producing a great movie when the story and directing seem so lacking. I'm sad. It had so much potential to be great.


*In the interest of full disclosure, she's Singaporean.
**Canadian.

2009/10/01: 60年的国庆

你是我的故国，我的乡土。我会一辈子祝福我优美的中国。

国庆节快乐.
Happy 60th anniversary, China!♥

no need to complicate our time

These past few days I haven't found it in me to have the right words to describe my life. I wrote last week and it came so easily, effortless creativity that made me stop and think: I love this. I love to write. I do it well. I'm not the best, god no (how I could ever think I was even close with all the friends I have whose talent continue to amaze me), and of course I need a lot of work and improvement, but this writing thing...I couldn't exist without it.

I don't mean blogging. I mean writing. There are days, weeks, when I miss it so much it's like a physical ache. It discomfits me not having put feelings and ideas and style onto the page, with the right words strung together in the right way, saying the right thing for once, when so often I feel tongue-tied and the very opposite of eloquent.

I love writing and I'm afraid law school stifles that. I'm afraid my own fears stifle that.

Have you ever read something you've written and cried over it? It made me feel incredibly pretentious, as if I thought I was such a good writer that I could stir even myself, as if my writing had such raw, powerful emotion.

(I like to think my writing makes people feel, but who has really read my writing?)

I don't think I'm a very good blogger, however. I don't think I am very good at chronicling my life and making it entertaining, witty, poignant. I am too busy trying to live my life and not let it pass me by to translate it into words for other people. I am too busy making the memory to reflect on the memory, at least until long afterwards, in hindsight.

I am better at translating other people's lives into something readable, however. I wonder why my own is such a challenge. Perhaps that is something I should try this year, to chronicle my life in an interesting way.

They tell me what I write about China is strongest, in vivid color and emotion, that it reflects my love for it. I wonder if I could do this for anything (a form of lying, because it is China I love, not just anything, not just anywhere), and it makes me want to try. Orchestrated lies, and all that.

Sometimes I wonder where I might be if I were braver.

getting to know me

Everyone who knows me well should know the two things that define and shape me as a person, that guide me through my life:

(1) My culture and heritage. I'm Chinese, and it matters. I'm proud of that. No matter how much I love and admire the U.S., no matter how interested I am in Korean or Japanese culture, my family and my roots are in China. It will always--taste like, sound like, feel like--be home.

(2) My family. I want to make my parents proud, and to take care of them when they're older. I always wish I could do more. They've raised me to believe I can always work harder, do better, be more. It can be discouraging at times, but I want to be the best daughter and sister that I can be.

I'd like to think people who know me know this about me; that they acknowledge it, recognize it, appreciate it. I'd like to think they respect me for it.

This is who I am. These are two unchangeable parts of who I am, integral and eternal.

[essay] on being chinese-american

I was told that I should write about what it means to be a Chinese-American. It’s a singular experience, shared in part but never entirely, by those who are also something else-American: Irish-American, Italian-American, Korean-American, or anything else. But what does it mean to be Chinese-American? For many people, it probably means living in an American society but being raised by Chinese parents. It means straddling two countries, two nationalities, two cultures, and more – essentially, it is about having two identities.

Or so people think.

I think differently.

It’s not as discrete as being split into two. You do not have two personalities, one that comes out at your American school and one that comes out at Chinese dinner parties, no matter how true that may feel. You are not like the sun and the moon, or like water and wine, or like black and white. Being Chinese-American is about being one person, you, and that encompasses everything you are into one entity. It is much closer to shades of gray.

You grow up listening to Chinese simply because your parents are; you grow up listening to English because that’s where you live and how you communicate with the world. You eat American food, Chinese food, Italian food, Japanese food; listen to American music, Korean music; watch American movies, Indian movies, French movies. Whatever you do, it’s multi-cultural and diverse, because that’s the kind of world we live in now. There is no line drawn within you separating these parts of you.

So whether or not you are fluent in Chinese, whether or not you know anything about Chinese history, it’s still a part of your heritage. For me, being Chinese-American means that I pay more attention to Sino-American politics because my parents pay more attention to them: I am more exposed to a different point of view. Being Chinese-American means that even though I listen to Japanese and Korean music, I understand Chinese music, because of who I am. Recently, I’ve been listening to hit Chinese songs from the 1980s and then discovering that my parents are familiar with the songs too. It’s unexpected but practical proof that I am not two separate entities, two separate identities, but only two halves of whole. Being Chinese-American is a combination of who I am and what I’m interested in, and a heritage that is part of me, no matter where I live or what I choose to like. My parents will always be Chinese, and China will always have a history and culture that defines a nation that I will in some way always belong to, even if I lived in Belgium and spoke French. I would be Chinese-Belgian then, but the defining adjective would still be “Chinese”.

Being Chinese-American means being raised with different expectations, not just from your parents, who expect good grades and for you to go to Chinese school, but also from society. People around you will expect you to speak Chinese or know kung-fu, if they are more ignorant, or for you to get straight As and play piano, if they are more familiar with the Chinese-American community. People will look at you and label you “Asian”, not “American”. Sometimes, it’s not flattering; sometimes, it’s not deliberate; oftentimes, it’s not cruel, but it is a fact. You learn to accept it and work with it: it’s a part of growing up.

Growing up entails a lot of acceptance – acceptance of who you are, where you’re from, what shapes your life, and how you will choose to live. Acceptance that your life is neither black nor white, but shades of gray.

One of my co-workers asked me the other day who I would cheer for if the U.S.A. and China competed against each other in the Olympics. Keep in mind that I’ve lived in the U.S. for eighteen of my twenty-one years, that I’m an American citizen, and that I speak English far more fluently than Mandarin. Keep in mind that I love America.

I smile at her as if she’s crazy. “I’m cheering for China, of course.”

Of course, because being Chinese-American means you never forget the part of you that defines what kind of American you are.

You are Chinese-American.

永远祝福中国。

我想为你努力

I know they're proud of me, but sometimes it's not enough. They're not proud enough. There is always something they can say, always some fault they can find, something to criticize, something I haven't done right, or well enough, or at all. And it hurts, because they're right. This is the way I feel about myself, why I can never really accept all the accolades and praises people try to give me about my accomplishments: whatever I've done, I could've done more.

I don't dismiss what I've achieved as unimportant, but all of it really fades into the background when it comes to what I could be doing, should be doing, could've/should've/would've done instead. Take for instance this summer: I should've put more work into finding something to do after I come back from China and Korea. I tentatively have an option open at a restaurant, but it's not a guarantee. Why didn't I look for an internship instead? Why didn't I plan ahead for something sound and of worth, volunteer work, even? I don't take the initiative often enough.

I know my parents are proud of me, but they see better than anyone my faults and shortcomings, and they let me know-- They do it when they're irritable and stressed, which means that their guard is down and this is how they feel at the moment (that I'm not enough), but it also means that they don't always feel this way (which is some sort of comfort).

It does hurt; of course it does. I don't think anyone's opinions of me matter quite as much as my parents'. That doesn't mean I'll let their opinions of me shape my entire life or my beliefs, because I know I live a different life than they do, and I know they're wrong at times, but their opininos certainly do make an impact and carry weight.

It does hurt when they tell me I'm not good enough, but considering the rest of tonight, I'd rather they be upset with me than with each other. Because I at least know that they love me anyway, that they're only worried about me, wanting the best for me.

I hate it when they're upset with each other. I hate it when they're so tired, so sick, so stressed, that they snap at each other over every little thing. I hate that my mom hates her job, because there's so much pressure, and I hate that my dad feels the same way about his job, constantly struggling to prove himself to his superiors and support the family. I hate that my parents don't communicate well with each other, I hate that they don't understand why the other one is legitimately upset. I hate that they're both sick right now and that neither of their health is that good.

I hate that my parents are unhappy so much, or at all, and I hate that they're getting old.

I hate that I don't know what to do about it. I wish I could support the family financially and my mom could quit her job or find a different one. I wish I could take on more of their duties (basic household management issues, maybe) so they wouldn't have to worry about that on top of their jobs. I wish I could do more, that I was better, more efficient, more knowledgeable, more capable. I wish I could take care of them.

Sometimes I really feel my age. Most of the time, I feel older than I am. I'm always surprised when I remember, hey, I'm not even twenty-one yet. I'm only twenty? I feel twenty-three at least. But maybe it's good that I'm not, because I hope to be far more capable and accomplished by twenty-three.

Someone I really respect said, about his parents, "我会努力让你们过的幸福开心,你们的幸福是我在心里最大的安慰,希望老爸,老妈身体健康,儿子永远我爱你们." (I'll work hard so you can live happily; your happiness is my heart's greatest comfort. I hope Mom and Dad will stay healthy; your son will always love you.)

I want to want that. I want to stop feeling so selfish about my own wants. This trip to China and Korea--I want it so badly, but it's causing my parents an untold amount of stress and worry. And I'm so sorry. But I want to go, and I want them to trust me to go; but more than that, I want them to be happy for me. I want them to stop being so anxious. (But they're parents, worrying is what they do.)

They've done so much for me. I wish I could do something in return.

two sides of the sun

In class today, my English professor eloquently described our campus as having "lawns that have sprouted people". With the nice weather, people have emerged out of nowhere onto our quad, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of two or five. They lie out under the sun, baring arms and legs (and sometimes backs) to the warm golden rays, diverting themselves with laughter and talk. I walk past them, those bright spots of color--red, blue, yellow, white--against the green grass, and I think how different are my cultures. (Then I take a moment to dwell on what I call "mine", but I think I can justify this to myself, or save it for another time.)

What do I mean?

I walk through the quad, weaving past people in t-shirts and shorts, and think about how different this scene would be China. Putting aside the fact that there are few areas of unspoiled lawn (even in parks), the people in China are not nearly so welcoming of the sun. Women and men alike don hats and hold intricately designed umbrellas (parasols?) to ward off the heavy, cancerous rays. They shy away from the light and the suffocating heat, exactly opposite of the people strewn across my campus, who turn their faces up in welcome to the sky.

Girls in China* are always dressed with effort: every eye not their own is part of the audience they display their style to, on the streets and in the malls and throughout the city. Even their casual clothes involve intricte outfits and designs on their shirts and on their jeans. The sneakers are also trendy, and those are only worn when they're not tripping through crowds in platform sandals or strappy heels. Over their heads, these girls wave pretty umbrellas (that sport flowers or lace or both) that match their outfits, shading them from the sun as they walk down the street.

(Wearing my solid-colored top and simple, undecorated jeans--so everyday and basic in the States--made me self-conscious in China, because I felt so very plain. And my borrowed lavendar-tinted umbrella unfortunately clashed with my green-and-blue clothes. I felt un-Asian, a failure in my own culture.)

So different are these cultures, I think as I walk across my campus. (Are they both mine?) Which do I prefer?



*disclaimer: in urban China, not rural; in comparisons that can be drawn to CH or universities in general

reflecting yourself in the world around you

It's true that you choose your friends and that they reflect the kind of person you are. Many of my friends are Asian and many of those who aren't are at least interested in Asian culture--I never realized how true this was, how much I took it for granted, until I came into work last night with some bubble tea and was asked by at least three different people (co-worker, customer, and manager) what it was.

Not only had they never had it, they'd never even heard of it.

With globalization so prevalent in the U.S. (the "melting pot" of cultures) and especially while attending such a liberal, diverse university, I'd made the mistake of thinking that everyone had equal exposure to cultures that I had. It's not true. They don't know all that I know, that I take for granted--and the same is true in reverse. What do I really know about French or Norwegian culture, for example? I have no French or Norwegian friends. I have no friends who are so immersed in those cultures that they would teach me by virtue of acquaintance.

Sometimes it's startling to realize how different my frame of reference regarding the world is compared to other people's. It's difficult to take a step outside of the box and trying to see yourself from the outside looking in, rather than from the inside looking out. The viewpoints are startlingly different. (It's like finding out you're in a clique. What, really? When did this happen?)

This was a reminder to me to pay attention to the world outside of my ostensibly open-minded and broad perspective of Western vs. non-Western cultures. There is more to the West than just U.S., and there is more to non-Western culture than just Asia. While I may have an advantage over others in my knowledge and familiarity with aspects of Asian culture, there is still a whole wide world out there of knowledge I don't have, and could learn.

Reach out. Teach what you know and be receptive to everything you don't.