Posts Tagged ‘identity’

Where are you from?

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , ,
13 September 2014
0

It starts off as an innocent (and usually simple) question. “Where are you from?” asks the person meeting you for the first time. For most people, a city or country name will suffice to bring about a certain level of understanding regarding their background.

But for me, this is a truly complicated question. Do you mean where am I from ethnically? Do you mean where I am from as in where I’m living right now? Do you mean where I am from as in where I grew up? Do you mean where I am from as in where I identify with most and consider home? I mean, really, this is a loaded question dressed up in innocence. The poor people asking me that question never know what’s coming until they’re knee deep in my explanation. So let’s break this down bit by bit.

To start, the easiest answer I have is when I am traveling abroad. Then I can say either the US or China, based on if the asker wants to know where my family heritage is or where I grew up. Since I’m in another country, I don’t have to explain in as much detail and general answers like that work. But when I’m in the US and people ask me, it’s too broad to just say “United States” – they’ll want to know what state, what city even.

Where am I from? If you mean my ethnic background, my familial “roots” then the answer is China. More specifically Northern China and even more specifically, Shenyang in Liaoning Province. This drills down enough that those familiar with Chinese geography and culture will know right away some basic things: I am from a Mandarin-speaking area, I probably have some Mongol in me, and there are certain slang terms specific to my region that I may use. This also explains why I often get mistaken for Korean – we are very close to (both) Korea(s) and people living in the same region tend to look alike. However, this doesn’t mean I’m truly Chinese. I’m certainly nothing like those who grew up there.

Where am I from? If you mean where I’m living now, then I would have said California, Southern California, Los Angeles, or Valencia. Do I feel like I am Californian or an Angeleno? Yeah, by now I do, since I’d been in the area on and off for a decade. I didn’t grow up here though, so I don’t consider it anything more than my most recent home that felt like it. For now, I’m still not connected enough with Virginia to think of this as my real home, even if my beloved condo, husband, and cat are here.

Where am I from? If you mean where I grew up, oh boy. I didn’t grow up in one place – which do I choose? I really can’t pick, since I spent an average of 3 years in each throughout my childhood before moving on to the next. First, 3.5 years in China, then about 2 years in Pennsylvania, then 3 years in Kansas, 1 year in China, 1 year back in Kansas, 2.5 years in Missouri, 3.5 years in New York, 4 years in California (2 in Valencia, 2 in Westwood/UCLA), 1 year in England, 2 years in California, 0.5 years in Singapore, 2 years in California again (El Segundo), and then back and forth between CA and Virginia for 1.5 years until my most recent 1 year in Virginia. Do I feel Mid-Western, as my 7 years there would suggest? No. Do I feel like an East Coaster? Certainly not. Do I feel like a West Coaster? Only in more recent years.

Where am I from? If you mean where I identify with the most, where my childhood memories are, where I consider home… I really don’t know. I can’t pick a single place, whether a city, a state, or even a region. For my adult life, it has mostly been the greater Los Angeles area, within about 50 miles. But my childhood? There is just too much of a story there to give a simple answer. And then of course I am now officially moved to Virginia, giving me yet another piece to the identity puzzle.

Who knew such a seemingly straightforward question would create so much havoc in my attempt to answer.

Foodie identity

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , ,
19 June 2012
0

Ever since this term “foodie” entered my vocabulary, I’d wondered about it.  I saw the people who loved to go out and eat at nice places, with small portions and beautiful presentation styles and weird ingredients.  You know, those who get dubbed experts in this and that and usually end up becoming food critics, whether professionally or as a hobby.  There were food shows abound, from the traditional cooking shows to the reality/competition shows.  I’d watch as they consumed all manner of things that I was not interested in trying, and wonder if that’s what made a foodie.  You’d eat just about anything so you wouldn’t miss out on the amazing variety available.  Oh, and of course everyone was a sucker for a wine or cheese tasting.

Then “foodie” things on the internet caught my attention, like Yelp and Foodspotting.  So then I thought, “Ok, maybe being a foodie means you try all kinds of places and review them and/or post up pictures (preferably artistic) of the food you ate.”  Maybe foodies were a middle-class food critic of sorts.  Sometimes hitting the high-end places, but usually going to accessible restaurants and reflecting on the taste of the dishes ordered and the level of service provided.  Or maybe it’s the people who almost seem to enjoy turning an image of the food into artwork more than eating the food itself.  Oh!  OR, could it be that it was those people who would find that one gem in the strangest of places, that has the best [fill in food type] in the area.

Yeah, I was pretty confused by this so-called identity of being a foodie, since I love food, eat a lot of it, and have a pretty diverse palette.  But I just didn’t connect with what it seemed “being a foodie” entailed.  My friends would probably consider me to be a foodie, but what does it really mean?  I never really cared for being like those other people – the ones who paired wines with their meals and got dishes barely big enough for one bite.  I also didn’t feel like the type to sit around over-analyzing the food or turn it into a creative thing.  Was a a different class of foodie?  Was I even in the category of foodie?

So, I decided it was time to look it up.  Unfortunately, much like the term “hipster,” I’m still struggling to really grasp what people mean by the term.  On Wikipedia, I found a helpful blurb to let me know that the fancy schmancy people I was thinking of are considered “gourmets.”  At least I can rule out my first impression of what foodie could mean.

“…foodies differ from gourmets in that gourmets are epicures of refined taste, whereas foodies are amateurs who simply love food for consumption, study, preparation, and news…”  ~Wikipedia

I am an amateur and I love food for consumption.  However, I don’t really study it or prepare it, or study the preparation of it.  Apparently foodies can really get into restaurant openings, cooking classes, and (surprise) wine tastings or beer samplings.  I’m not really into those things, though I would consider trying them at some point.  You know what, I’ve figured it out.  I’m just a plain old food lover.  I don’t get crazy about the details of food; I basically like to enjoy tastes.  Still, I like sites like Yelp and Foodspotting, since they allow me to discover great places to eat at, so maybe there’s a little foodie in me.

Childlike wonder & curiosity

laelene Posted in general blog, video blog，Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
20 February 2010
0

I was watching this video of Aimee Mullins about adversity, and the thing that struck me, strangely enough, was not her main message, but the moment when she spoke of “childlike curiosity.”  I do agree with her message and the powerful way that language sets a precursor, as well as the strength of the human spirit.  So I suppose that’s why everything else she said didn’t hit me the way that the reference to curiosity being childlike did.

Why did that part stand out?  Well, because I wondered why attributes like wonder and curiosity and innocence are so often described as “childlike.”  It’s as if we no longer recognize that adults can be like that and when they are, it’s a rare thing.  What’s wrong with “adult-like” curiosity?  What has happened in our society that makes everything children do so great and everything that adults “grow into” so bad?  Actually, I think that’s exactly what happens because of society.  Because we have this sort of structure, at a certain age, things like responsibility and maturity take hold.  Expectations develop into more serious ones and we lose much of our freedom to do what we want, enjoy as we like, and not worry too much.

The good thing is that it seems our culture is more and more tolerant of “childlike” activities in adults.  After all, records of generations past make them seem rather rigid, but that could just be because what is recorded is not the playful silly moments shared, but the serious and “important” moments had.  Nevertheless, I still do feel that generally we are heading towards habits that allow more carefree expressions from older people.  I just hope that soon we can progress to such a point that people who sing in public because they are happy aren’t given strange looks as if they’ve lost their minds.  Or that fully-grown men and women can get child’s meals without feeling shameful.

Speaking of, why is it that small portions are only allowed to those under a certain age?  It’s like the problem with McDonald’s Super Size meals – when you offer larger portions, people will get them*.  And when they get them, they try their very best to finish the portions in front of them.  So why not just offer smaller sizes and alleviate this pressure that people have looking at their uneaten food?  I think we still stuff ourselves full much of the time because of our hunting and gathering days, when food wasn’t so easy to come by.  Nowadays, it’s far too easy to overeat, and judging adults who want to get a “child’s” meal is part of the problem.

Personally, I believe in expressing your joy.  People sometimes find me too enthusiastic or hyper when I am happy and excited.  Generally, they enjoy it, though they are wary and wonder if I’m just a bit cuckoo.  But why is that?  Why can’t I burst into song because it was playing in my head?  Why can’t I be giddy over the smallest victories?  Why can’t I jump around and share my positive emotions?  Well, I can.  Just not without being judged.  And that’s ok, I’m used to being judged.  When I’m happy, I’m happy and I’ll show it if I want to.  I think more people should.

I hope that people will learn to stop putting up the walls around themselves and open themselves up the way they did before society taught them otherwise.  I think that’s what people mean when they refer to those childlike qualities.  It’s freeing yourself from the bounds that society puts you in, even if just a little.  Let’s not become drones and make all the motions going through life without experiencing and enjoying the way we did before the clamps started to pin us down.

*The issue of portion size and the poor eating habits is up for discussion in a future post – ironically, I just watched another TED video, this time about America’s (and now the world’s) eating problem.

For the sake of it

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
19 July 2009
0
photo credit: puttputtproductions.com

photo credit: puttputtproductions.com

I was born in the Year of the Ox and the month of the Capricorn.  Both are known to be stubborn creatures, which is something that I’ve most definitely inherited, for better or for worse.  Many of the things I chose to do in my life have been out of pure stubbornness – first to be able to say that I did it and second just to be different.  Of course, the more people try to get me to change my behavior, the more determined I get to stick to my principles, morals, and priorities.  I think I like the satisfaction of claiming that I don’t do this or that or that I have done something for this long.  Especially when it’s something most of the population would like to claim as well, I feel all the better about being able to stake my claim.

The three most prominent examples of this are what I will or will not ingest, my frequency of relocations and moves, and my persistence with my journal.  For each, though it may not always make sense for me to stick to my guns so strictly, I do so to preserve the idea that it’s always been that way.  I don’t like to compromise in any of these areas and it’s quite rare for me to do so, though I’ve been working on that lately, since some of what I do is truly unfounded or limiting.  At the same time, certain aspects I don’t plan on ever changing and that can be seen as a good or bad thing.  Ok, let me clarify what I mean by each of these examples then.

Lychee flavor!

Lychee flavor!

First off are my peculiar food and drink preferences.  As many know, I do not drink alcohol, coffee, or energy drinks.  I also refuse to eat rubbery things like calamari, squid, and other such odd creatures.  I stay away from burgers, steak, lobster, and caviar.  I am especially strict with alcohol, also avoiding food cooked in it, chocolates with liqueur, and the like.  Even fermented food is a big no-no in my books, though some of these things have been unavoidably tasted at least once.  The more people try to pressure me to drink, the more resistant I am, even if it’s just a taste or small portion of wine.  I often get the “you know that it can actually be good for you, right?” and pay no heed – the costs far outweigh the benefits in my eyes.  I do, however, like to collect a few mini bottles here and there because they’re rather cute (plus, why would you ever drink it?  They’re too pretty!).

However, last year I did become curious and exasperated enough to try some beer (at age 22) and it was just as nasty as I thought it’d be, plus some.  So that experience only solidified my resolve to avoid alcohol.  I’m sure people will now focus on how I didn’t try wine or something lighter, fruitier, or whatever.  Perhaps one day I will sip some wine just to get them to leave me alone, but as of now I’ll just ignore their pleads that it can be good for my health.  In fact, I cherish an article I read recently about how the link that people draw between moderate drinking and good health may not be a causal effect, but actually be discounting many other possible factors that affect people’s drinking.  Even if there was solid proof, I’m not about to just follow suit.  I can eat blueberries and pomegranates for antioxidants and have fish oil and avocados for cardiovascular health.  No alcohol needed.

I avoid coffee and energy drinks for the caffeine, which I don’t want or need, plus coffee smells disgusting to me.  I like to do things naturally and without artificial aids whenever possible, so if I’m tired I take a nap.  If I’m pulling an all-nighter, I drink lots of water or tea.  I don’t need these extreme stimulants to affect my body in strange ways.

As for rubbery things, I’m not a fan of having to overwork my jaw or swallow large chunks of food.  The texture doesn’t appeal to me, so I stick to crab, shrimp, and scallops, which is seafood that I do like to eat.  This is not for health reasons, so I did try these “dong dong” shells in Singapore, since it’s a local thing.  Now, I’m not quite sure why I don’t like burgers – I think it stems from a gross one I saw in the cafeteria in my childhood.  I’ve stayed away ever since, though I have broken that to have about five in the past 15 years.

photo credit: artvoice.com

This doesn’t look appetizing to me at all. photo credit: artvoice.com

Steak is just too thick for me and I hate how it usually comes at least somewhat pink.  I don’t really like meat that much, unless it’s very thinly sliced.  Lobster is something my mom and I have disagreed on for ages – she says I ate it as a kid and I refuse to believe that.  The only time I recall having it was in a dip, where the chunks were minimal.  I’m not interested in ever eating a full one.  And caviar has the same problem that rubbery things have in that I don’t like the texture.  I also stubbornly don’t like food that is high class and expensive (though it’s a coincidence that my taste buds prefer cheaper foods).

Secondly, I am persistent in my desire to move around because that’s how my life has always been.  I like being able to say I’ve never lived in the same city for more than 3 and 1/2 years consecutively.  I like having so many old homes and schools and jobs that I have to keep a list or else I’d forget.  I’m not the type of person to stay put and I enjoy that.  My friends are never really too surprised to hear of my escapades because I’m on the go far more than they usually are.  If for that reason alone, I want to keep moving around and not settle quite yet.  Of course, it also has to do with just being used to that lifestyle.

My most recent journal.

My most recent journal.

Finally, how many people can say they have kept a journal for 14 years?  I want to be able to, but I’m at 13 now and a year behind in catching up on entries.  Most people I tell say they tried to keep a journal, but that only lasted a week, a month, a year… I’ve yet to meet someone who’s managed for as long as I have.  And if only for the sake of being able to say that I have, I want to continue with it, whether or not it may be worth my while.  Ultimately I think it’ll be a great thing to draw from later on if I decide to write an autobiography (or if people want to look back on my life, though it’d certainly be a bit tedious – I’m already reaching 50 volumes and that’s A LOT of reading).

So you see, much of my motivations for these areas is because of my stubbornness to continue to do it like I always have (or at least since my childhood).  Generally, people respect my choices and think it’s good that I don’t drink and don’t rely on coffee or energy drinks for a boost.  They also think it’s crazy that I move so frequently, but respect my ability to do that as well.  And of course, everyone wishes they were able to keep the journal they always meant to have.  I like being the one who does.  The one who is able to stay away from alcohol, coffee, and energy drinks.  The one who doesn’t need or want to spend exorbitant amounts on steak, lobster, and caviar.  The one who has lived everywhere.  The one who has kept a journal for years.  The one who can, who has, and who will.

Sense of self (worth)

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , , , , ,
29 June 2009
0

I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day and found that I’ve lost a bit of my sense of self (and self worth).  We were discussing my next steps when I go back to LA and I found that I’m rather confused.  There are a lot of things I want to do with my life and a lot of things I don’t want to do.  Between all of those desires, it’s hard to choose what exactly to do now.  Part of this had to do with my lofty goals of starting my own environmental consulting firm (or perhaps eco-consulting is more accurate).  There’s so much I need to do and learn and know to get that off the ground and sometimes I lose sight of how to do that.  However, talking to her has helped me get hope again, and find a better focus for my job hunting to come.

Reconnect with the lion within.

Reconnect with the lion within.

I’d slowly been losing faith in myself, finding that maybe I don’t have what it takes to be an entrepreneur, a business owner, a CEO.  Though that’s always been my dream since I started thinking of what path to take my life on after high school, the work I’ve been doing has shown me that what I’m good at is not leader of a company material.  Instead, I’m far better playing second fiddle, doing all the background work and behind the scenes stuff to keep the front lines moving.  I tend to be strong with research, but that’s not what will take me to where I want to go.  There are a lot of areas I’m weak in, like interacting with people and managing things holistically.  Seeing this has slowly ground away at my self-confidence and blind faith in myself to make it somehow.

Additionally, I lost a lot of faith in myself since coming to Singapore because of the many obstacles I’ve been struggling with.  From the cultural barriers to more personal issues that have cropped up, each time it left me wondering what I’m doing wrong, what I’ve been doing wrong, and why in the world there are so many misunderstandings.  After a lengthy conversation with Typea, I began to see so many misunderstandings stemming from my Western upbringing.  There are so many small things that you would never really know about because it’s usually not worth mentioning.  But add them all up and you’ve got a very inaccurate interpretation of who you are and why you do what you do.  Singapore is still an Eastern culture after all, despite all the Western influence they may have.

It’s kind of funny, because now I’m starting to see Singapore much like myself.  It’s neither here nor there, with English as a primary language, but Asian cultures still dominating the way of life.  Similarly with me, I’m neither Chinese nor American, but Chinese-American and as anyone who has studied complex systems can attest, the sum of parts is greater than the whole.  What that means for me is that I’m not simply Chinese mixed with an American; the interaction of the two produces an entirely new result altogether.  Yet to those who have not grown up knowing what that is like, that’s a hard thing to understand, so they just assume I’m both put together.  Unfortunately, that means they expect me to know a lot more of the nuances of claiming either identity than I actually do.

Still foreign.

Still foreign.

What I have trouble accepting is that I can’t do anything about it.  One of the quirky things about Asian culture is that nearly everything is suppressed.  People aren’t straightforward, but rather expect you to insinuate what they want and what you should do.  Not being armed with the right tools to figure this out, I am left to flounder and come up with completely bizarre conclusions (in their eyes, at least).  It’s frustrating because I just need pointers and guidance (albeit a lot) to help me along.  Also, because I look Asian, there is less leeway or forgiveness for many transgressions because it is assumed I should know.  If I didn’t look so, I think I’d either get written off as a foreigner or people would be more patient with the mistakes I made.  I always had that luxury as a child though, because whenever I went back to China to visit, I was with my relatives who knew how different I was, so they didn’t expect me to be like them.

So, my ego has taken a hard blow and it doesn’t help that no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t make things better.  I’ve been told quite a few times to just let it go – what is, is.  But to me, that’s like giving up.  Here I am in a foreign culture – how could I not try to adapt?  The difference is sometimes too great though, so to some extent I want to stop trying so hard.  I spend all that time and effort to avoid stepping on people’s toes or giving them the wrong impression only to do so anyway.  Is there still a point?  I’ve got one more month here and two of those weeks will be spent as a tourist going around to other countries.  There certainly isn’t time to fix things as I’d like, but should I keep trying anyway?

People pleaser & misunderstandings

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
25 June 2009
2

I’ve always been the type of person who will bend over backwards to try to anticipate what people want and do it.  At the expense of my personal enjoyment, I’ll let them have their way and enjoy something before I do.  I’m constantly proactively thinking about what I can do to not get in their way and to be more considerate to them in ways they may not notice, but would make a difference.  I’ve certainly not been completely successful and still step on people’s toes despite that foresight, but I still try, even if it means I’m always evaluating how other people might think.  It’s a tiring process and I’ve been jaded a few times, but I still tend to act that way.

More recently my strong-willed side has come out more and though I spend no less time thinking about how people would react to my actions, I care less.  After all, I can’t always live my life by everyone else’s rules and time and time again I’ve suppressed a lot to please someone else.  I’m worn out from years of giving, giving, giving.  Giving my time, my money, my energy, my resources.  I’ve got stepped on, walked over, and even trampled a few times that way when I allowed too much and didn’t stand up for myself.  So nowadays, I spend some time justifying my actions when they aren’t so people-pleasing.

Now this is how I'd like to work (and do at home) if I had to be at a desk. photo credit: expresspros.com

Now this is how I'd like to work if I had to be at a desk. photo credit: expresspros.com

Take work for example.  My working style is erratic and varied, with plenty of distractions throughout the day.  I’m not the type of person to sit down and focus for hours on end, complete a task early, then call it a day.  Instead I meander through, sometimes chatting with others, sometimes checking e-mails or social networking sites, sometimes reading articles for personal enjoyment and enrichment.  All of this goes towards what I consider an important aspect of all our lives – personal improvement.

Often people get so caught up in their work that they don’t take the time to make themselves a better person, a better worker, a better friend.  I tend to focus on the gaining new knowledge aspect of it, but sometimes I’ll turn to my interpersonal skills as well.  This translates to a confusing picture for anyone looking over my shoulder, who will find that I have thirty tabs open at any given time and switch between them quite frequently.  To some, it may look like I’m slacking, but I’m too tired to try to make everyone understand.

So, I’ve been justifying it to myself: I still work quite efficiently overall and there are periods of intense focus (usually when nobody else is around).  The bosses know the product of my time and though we’ve talked about how I let my fear of failure hold me back, all feedback on the quality of my work has been positive.  My work is internal development, which is always ongoing and has no real deadline to meet.  Of course, I set incremental ones, but really I could be working until the cows come home and still have the bulk of work to do.  So, it’s not like I can just finish a project and be done for the day.  Put these together and that’s how I explain to myself why I don’t need to work like the others do.  It’s not my style.

photo credit: art.com

photo credit: art.com

I almost don’t care what the others may think of what they see.  I used to worry that people would think I napped too much, but that’s just another way that my body copes with work.  I’ve come to the point where if I need to rest, I will, and for as long as my body tells me to.  Whereas before I may have tried to hide that fact by sneaking to a corner or setting an alarm so I didn’t sleep for extended periods, now I am accepting my personal work style.  It’s extremely unconventional and I’m lucky that this environment is very flexible and forgiving.

I guess that’s why I’m so adamant about not getting a typical desk job.  I know I’d fall asleep in the middle of the day.  I know I’d get antsy and want to move around or just surf around a bit online.  For me, it’s still a part of my creative and learning processes, so it’s not exactly time wasted.  I don’t know how I could stand to show up to work at 9 every day, sit and focus, take a lunch break, then complete the day and leave.  It’s such a stale routine.

Though I try a bit less to please everyone now (which, of course, is impossible, since not everyone will know all the factors and will often misinterpret things), I am still often concerned with it.  However, I’ve learned to not always change my behavior to fit what I think others want.  In fact, it turns out that some of the things that I have been doing that I thought were considerate was being seen as strange behavior.  Suddenly being independent was being seen as being aloof and being conservative with resources was being strangely stingy.  I guess I’m screwed no matter what.

Asian on the outside, Asian-American through and through.

Asian on the outside, Asian-American through and through.

It only struck me here that I am so strongly Westernized and even though Singapore has huge Western influences, it is still very much an Asian society at heart.  The things that I do that I never had a problem with before are suddenly all problematic.  There are many layers to the misunderstandings that have occured, but much of it stems from the cultural divide.  Just like I am deceptively Asian with my standard Mandarin accent, Singaporeans are deceptively Western with their lifestyles, but deep down, it’s a completely different story.

I guess the hardest thing is that people expect me to know all the nuances of Asian culture because I look the part.  They hear past my American accent and only see my Chinese face and assume that I know what it’s like in an Asian culture.  But in fact, I left the country when I was only three and have since spent twenty years in the states.  It wasn’t even until I moved to California nearly seven years ago that I met so many other Asians.  The bulk of my childhood was spent among white people (the Midwest doesn’t offer much diversity).

I wonder about all the things that I must have done as a child visiting in China (that I didn’t even realize were different) that my relatives just wrote off as a trait of being “the American” one.

Cosmopolite

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , , , , ,
25 May 2009
1

Today I got followed by @nanyate on Twitter and I was intrigued enough to go to her blog because of an offer for free SoyJoy for your office!  Turns out she’s one of five bloggers competing at SoyJoy‘s GI Joy challenge.  I’ll admit, I was tempted by her offer of a free customized WordPress theme!  Nonetheless, I love to help people out, so I went to vote for her and posted on Twitter about it.  The person who helps her generate the most votes will earn her prize.  I don’t know how she can track it, but hey, no harm in trying, right?  So everyone, go vote for her!  Her name is Ivy and she’s the girl shown doing the half squat that the SoyJoy commercials have been using.

Ok, now that the backstory is out of the way, let me get to the point.  I am a huge fan of “about” pages, so of course, what else did I do after being entertained by the SoyJoy challenge she wrote about but go check her story out?  Turns out she has a fabulously-written and immensely cute section dedicated to who she is.  Not only do you get the basics of her life like her educational background, but she also has five “Ivy the _____” sections detailing herself in different roles.  It was from here that I learned of this term third culture kid, which apparently means someone who moved abroad with their parents and took both their culture of origin and their culture of assimilation to create a kind of mesh of cultures, or a third culture.  As such, they tend to consider themselves more of citizens of the world than of any particular country.  As I was reading through the description, I kept thinking to myself, “Gosh, that sounds like my life.”  Yet, I felt like something was off and that I shouldn’t fit the bill, even though I moved with my parents and my culture is very much a confused mix of both cultural influences.

chinese and american passports side by side

Adopting both cultures.


Initially, I thought that maybe it was because these people moved later in life, like after they had started school in their birth country, but from the description, plenty of people could have moved as toddlers and still be considered TCKs.  So why, then did I feel like I shouldn’t belong?  Well, it turns out that I came across one line that made is all clear to me: “TCKs are distinguished from other immigrants by the fact that TCKs do not expect to settle down permanently in the places where they live.”  Ah ha!  I knew there was a tangible difference in being a first/second generation American and being a TCK!  And it’s a critical difference – I plan on spending the rest of my life with my home base in my adopted country whereas they plan on returning to their country of origin, so their immigration is always temporary, transient.  So in the end, I am an immigrant but they are essentially visitors, passing through (even if that takes many years).  We’ll both adopt certain parts of the cultures that we come from and live in, but in different ways and for different purposes.

screenshot of laelene's livejournalWell, in reading about all of that, it led me to the idea of being a cosmopolite – someone who is cosmopolitan.  I’ve never really paid attention to the word, probably because of the magazine that takes its name, which I find to be too focused on looks and being superficial.  I never thought of it as a useful way to convey being “at home in all parts of the world,” so I guess it was meant for the meaning of “conversant with many spheres of interest.”  Mostly I think they were just going with the image of being “sophisticated and cultured” without actually really going for a well-traveled woman.  Whatever the case, this is the first time I’ve actually given a second thought to the term and I find that I connect with the description quite well (except for the sophisticated part, perhaps… I don’t know if I can claim that much).  I feel like I am made up of many components from around the world, can feel comfortable in all parts of the world, and can connect with many spheres of interest.  This is exactly the look and feel I was going for in my most recent LiveJournal blog – a jetsetter who is elegant and sophisticated.  Well-cultured, well-mannered, and well-read.  So thank you Ivy for leading me to give this term a chance, this word that so describes what I’m striving for.

Broken identity (a follow-up)

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , ,
10 March 2009
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Had a long day at work, so I’m pulling from a back-up stash of entries for when I just don’t have the time.

I mentioned before that I have a very complex self identity.  Part of that was all the moving around while growing up, but another part was that initial move.  Since I was only three and a half when I immigrated from China, I could be first or second generation American, depending on how you want to look at it.  That is probably why I always called myself the 1.5 generation (not knowing that it is actually a recognized term!).

I could be first generation if you feel that anyone who personally immigrated is the first generation, or the children of those immigrants are the first generation.  I could be second generation if you feel that the children of the immigrants are the second generation.  However, children of immigrants are typically assumed to be born in the US rather than brought over at a young age.  So, I don’t fit very neatly into any of the more traditional ways of viewing immigrant generations.  It’s all very confusing.

I always grew up thinking that first generation meant that you were the first to enter the country.  However, that would put my parents and I on an even field, which didn’t make sense.  Hence, the one and a half generation – because I was born abroad, but grew up here.  There are plenty of others who did the same and they may be equally confused as to what generation they are considered.

So I never knew if I was an immigrant because I had an alien card or if I was American because I became a naturalized citizen?  Well, as it turns out, these things never have easy answers and I just accept being a little of both.  Neither one really, yet both at the same time.  This is how I imagine it would be to be a biracial or multiracial person.  You are at once all of your parts, but none of them individually, and the sum of your parts does not equal an even whole, but more than that, with the interaction of the parts.

Rather than be confused or upset by this, I find it rather amusing and fun.  It certainly makes for a lively conversation if the topic comes up.  Self identity is such a complex issue; it can’t really be simple for anyone.  So, I like to think of its nuances from time to time, but I never really worry myself about it.  We’ve all got to find our way in life and this is only part of the discovery.  Then there’s figuring out what we to define our lives by, in terms of our hobbies, abilities, lifestyle, and occupation.

This issue is only the tip of the iceberg!  There’s a lot we can identify ourselves with, which changes over time too.  So you know what, I’m not about to have an identity crisis.  It’s cool.  Who am I?  Well, you’ll just have to see.

How I was molded into an independent person

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , , , , , , ,
26 February 2009
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I just overheard my mom on the phone, booking her plane ticket to Mongolia, due to leave just about 12 hours after mine to Singapore leaves LAX.  The past couple of days she has been lamenting what to do about our mail, since many statements cannot be sent to P.O. boxes and there is no one in our family here to take care of it for us.  We used to get it forwarded to a family friend’s place, but that’s such a hassle to do for just a month or two.

Now that I’m leaving the country, my mom is left to figure out what to do with the house (and her life) again.  When I was studying abroad in England, she rented it out and moved back to China with my dad.  Should she do that again or stick around to try to pursue a career in aerospace, as she’s dreamed of doing?  Strangely enough, my life is what gives her some stability – whenever I’m around, she can stay at home and do various types of work happily.  Yet, once I leave, she needs to figure what her life is about, sans moi.

All of this made me think of the fragmented time I spent with my parents growing up and how multiple moves affected my sense of independence.  It’s no wonder I did become so independent, what with one parent or the other often away and our family hardly ever staying in one place long enough to make lasting friends.  As I grew older, it became my time to be away from home and friends on my own – to swim camps, to boot camps, to a swim competition in Australia, and the frequent visits to my relatives in China.  Another factor contributing to my independence was early on: I didn’t even meet my parents until I was three and a half (my dad left six months before I was born and my mom left six months after I was born, so I hardly remembered her).

In the early days, my parents were busy finishing up their graduate degrees at Penn State – a Master’s for my mother and a Doctorate for my father.  To support us, they had to be research assistants and my dad worked as a teaching assistant as well.  From there, it was off to Kansas, where my dad worked for the government and my mom found a random job with Payless Shoes.  I would come home to an empty house and do homework or play by myself.  I think that’s when my desire for a sibling or pet began to grow, as I spent many quiet afternoons alone in the house, waiting for my mom to get home from work.  I had one or two good friends, but mostly kept to myself.  I enjoyed playing around during recess, but I rarely mixed home life with school life.

Three years later I was sent back to China for a year to reacquaint myself with the culture and language.  It was a blissful time of no homework, no worries, since I was so far behind in all the subjects – except for English, where I was so far ahead – that I was kind of just a dead weight in class.  Nevertheless, the kids loved me because this little 3rd grader was stronger than the 6th graders, and faster than anyone in school.  I didn’t really contact my parents much during that year and when I returned to the US, I had no viable way of staying in touch with my friends from that school.

When we moved to Missouri, my dad had been working there for awhile.  He had secured a position with a company that kept him traveling as he and my mom started their own company, so my mom went back to China for two or three years to work on that.  The internet had just gone public and I was immersed in the world of HTML, making a variety of websites that I have since forgotten about.  I was also an extreme bookworm, preferring to spend time poring over novels to that of physical company.  At school, I was a social butterfly, known by everyone but not close to many.

By the time we made the move to New York, I was in the smack middle of my middle school years.  Afraid that I would get gaps in my knowledge if I took the honors track for math and science, my counselor advised me to follow the normal track and then test out of it after 8th grade.  The classes, unfortunately, were far too easy and filled with immature peers who I did not connect with.  My close set of friends didn’t have many classes with me, since they were all on the honors track.  After finishing middle school, I found that this test that my counselor talked about did not exist.  I was stuck.  Meanwhile, my mom busied herself with the stock market as my dad worked hard at his new Vice President position, often going on business trips.

During my freshman year of high school, I took a math class that was nearly a joke for me – algebra.  I aced nearly all of the tests and quizzes and got a disappointing 99 on my final.  Frustrated with the lack of challenge, my mom had me talk to my teacher to find out what I would need to know for the next level of math.  I spent that nextsummer learning geometry with my mother, meticulously practicing, learning, and writing out homework.  At the beginning of my sophomore year, we took all the paperwork to the principal and my new counselor to show them that I had mastered the material.  It was agreed that I should be allowed to learn trig at that point, however, I still had to attend geometry class.  (Apparently a New York State law that I needed to spend a certain number of hours in the classroom – utterly useless.)  So, I took two math classes simultaneously that year (along with either other classes, ensuring I never had a lunch period).  Though I finally caught up academically, socially it was a bit too late – the honors track students had already formed their cliques.  And I was not a part of them.

My dad had moved to Texas when his company moved headquarters and waited there for us to move there to join him sometime in the future.  Instead, a headhunter found him and convinced him to take a new position as VP over in a Californian company.  So, with just two weeks notice in the summer following my sophomore year, we packed up and moved across the nation.  Being that it was summer, not many people knew what had happened to me and why I left.  Once again I had been the social butterfly, knowing everyone in my grade, but hardly close to any of them.  Only my closest group of friends saw me off and the rest of the school I didn’t know well enough to call up to inform.

I started life anew in California as a junior.  With just two years of high school left and a lot of focus on college prep work, I made friends only with people in my classes, on my swim team, and in my JROTC unit.  This was the most present my parents had ever been, but I was far too busy with schoolwork, SAT prep, ROTC training, swim practice, and meets to really spend time with them.  For the last blissful weeks of high school, I lived it up driving around with my friends and enjoying life after APs and before college.

Then came UCLA, where I was so busy with being a college student that I only went home when I needed to do laundry.  When I was about to start my second year, my dad moved back to China to work and has been there ever since.  My third year of college I went abroad and by the time I returned, my mom had joined my dad in China.  I spent my fourth year and extra quarter on my own in this country before my mom came back to join me until I found a job.  Now I’ll be off to Singapore and by the time I get back, who knows how things will be.

So you see, much of my life was spent with my parents traveling around or busy at work.  I had a lot of time to myself in the afternoons when I came back from school and spent many years away from them.  Even when we are together, we all are busy with our own obligations, so I don’t just hang out with them much.  In fact, the only true bonding we get is the periodic family outings we go on – road trips my dad concocts to all kinds of places.  It’s been an int
eresting lifestyle and it just amuses me that in a week, our family will once again be split amongst three different countries.  I do love being independent and traveling a lot, but eventually I’d like to settle somewhere long-term to have as a home base.

Bilingual, bicultural

laelene Posted in general blog，Tags: , ,
24 February 2009
0

I am not sure how it happened, but 8Asians started to follow me on Twitter!  When I was notified of this, it got me to go back to their site to read some of their entries.  I eventually came across an article about teaching your kid Chinese, as a response to an article that the author had read about the decision to not teach your kid Chinese.  It was interesting to see the perspectives on this issue, being one who went through years of Chinese school.  Though I hated getting up on Sunday mornings to go learn, the extra homework that inevitably came with extra schooling, and the difficulty of learning the characters, it is something that I am tremendously grateful for.

So I, for one, lie on the side preferring bilingualism.  I grew up speaking Mandarin at home and English at school.  Any notion that children will get “confused” learning two languages simultaneously is absolutely absurd.  I’ve never had a problem with that, not even accidentally saying a single word in the wrong language.  Some people seem to have it in their minds that integrating two languages into learning is conflicting, but it certainly is not.  That’s the beauty of a young mind.  It can pick up on so much so effortlessly (or at least so it seems).

As I read through comments to those posts, I started to think: it’s not just about the communication aspect.  Being bilingual (or multilingual) opens the doors to be bicultural.  And to be multicultural is to understand.  That is not something that can be learned very easily either.  Though plenty of people in their adult lives can move elsewhere and adopt their new culture, a lot of the old culture still remains at odds with the new one.  It’s not easy to balance the differing views.  Growing up learning to mesh them, however, could give you a worldly view on things.

Plus, from a practical point of view, if you want to stay in touch with your family abroad and allow everyone in your family to understand each other, it’s an important skill to have.  Otherwise, you will end up having to translate (or be translated for) at family gatherings.  I have always prided myself in my Mandarin fluency – it allows me to get around as I need to when I am visiting the country and it allows me to interact with my relatives without needing my parents to translate.  Just by knowing the language, I feel so much more connected to the culture too, since so much of it has historical and cultural roots.

I think the older generations also respect you more if you know the language(s) of your heritage.  So many of them shake their heads and mutter to themselves when they hear of other children who don’t know the language or can barely get by with it.  For me, however, they are either proud that I can speak to them or holding back from their mutterings because they know I’d understand what they’re saying.  It gives you so much more freedom.

Now I can understand parents who may want to wait for their child to start learning another language (like the lady in the article mentioned above, about not teaching your kid Chinese).  For the first few years, it will be relatively easy for them to pick up on the language, so there’s no need to throw them into lessons when they’re still learning to walk.  This is especially true for people who may not be native speakers themselves, since there isn’t much they could teach the child.  However, I do think that anyone of a heritage growing up in a culture other than the one they were born to should start learning the language sometime in elementary school.

I certainly want any of my future offspring to be bilingual, if not multilingual.

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