Riley Week 1: The Chinese I was Supposed to Speak
I was eight years old when my father took me, my eleven-year-old sister, and our Caucasian mother to his hometown in Hong Kong, China. By that point, I had been admitted to a Mandarin Immersion Program for three years, speaking broken Chinese because unlike my classmates, I did not have family at home that could help me learn Mandarin.
For context, Mandarin is the primary language spoken in China, but coastal communities such as Hong Kong and Guangdong mainly speak Cantonese, a different variant of Chinese. The entirety of my Asian family is from Hong Kong, so none of them were capable of helping me learn Mandarin.
When my family arrived at the airport on mainland China for our connecting flight, my father got down on his knees, looked me and my sister in the eyes, and warned us that people in China “liked to kidnap mixed children”.
He continued to inform us that we would be our family's only method of communication until we arrived in Hong Kong, because my father did not understand Mandarin.
I remember being terrified by the situation itself, but what stuck to me more was the realities that it revealed about language. Language is not just a method of communication, it is a measure of belonging.
The truth is I did not even understand Mandarin. I knew enough of the language to get through classroom exercises, memorize vocabulary, and (mostly) understand my teacher, but when I entered the real world none of that mattered.
My time in the airport before arriving at Hong Kong was confusing, terrifying, and humbling, and it only got worse once we got into town. I did not understand what my father and grandparents were saying. I did not know Cantonese.
I did not speak the ‘right’ Chinese. I did not have a button nose, ivory skin, and a petite build. My mother was American, from the South if you want to get specific. I ate butter noodles for dinner; I enjoyed cherry tomatoes as a snack.
As a mixed child, I have struggled with my sense of identity for as long as I can remember. I am constantly categorized, pushed one way or the other, and changed into something I am not. The reality is I do not fit into a category, but that does not make me any less of a member of my communities.
My whole life I associated language with belonging. I still do not speak Cantonese, and my Mandarin is far from perfect. That does not make me any less Chinese.
If identity is not something provable by the words you say, then how do you decide who you are?
Hi Riley, wow. I could not possibly imagine how anxious you must have felt being the translator your family had to rely on. Similarly to you, growing up, I have also taken classes in my native language, Telugu, but I barely know anything after three years. I would even consider myself to be much stronger at speaking Spanish, the language elective that I have chosen to take in school, but I still am only able to converse at the most basic level. My ability to understand and respond to native speakers is not strong, especially since they tend to speak extremely fast.
ReplyDeleteThe fact that your dad instilled in you and your sister the idea that mixed children were often kidnapped definitely added fuel to the fire of your anxiety. I also deeply relate to your feelings of lacking an identity. Although I may not be mixed, I still struggle with feeling as though I lack evidence to prove my Indian identity, namely because I struggle to speak Telugu and converse with the rest of my family in India.
To answer your question at the end, I believe that identity is something that can be demonstrated through the actions you take rather than solely through your current ability to speak your mother tongue. Even if you are unable to speak Chinese fluently, the desire to connect with your family and the actions you take to make that a reality are, to me, important indicators of who you are.
This post really had an impact on how I view my language. Like you, my Hindi is no where near perfect, but I know just enough to get by. Still, this did not make my extended family love me any less than they do their perfect Hindi speaking relatives. I used to feel down when people were talking and I could not join because I just could not decipher the words they were speaking. But later I learned that they feel the same way when I speak in english, as their english is not perfected either. To answer your question, excluding my language from my identity, I define myself by my culture and traditions, as although I am not the best at speaking my native language, I am no worse than anyone in my culture at celebrating our traditions.
ReplyDeleteHi Riley. I think the way you have structured your blog to transition from your younger self’s personal fears to your current progress of outgrowing these same emotions really made it an enjoyable read for me. To a certain extent, I do agree that the categorization of our identities, race and nationalities should be a thing in the past. I believe labels and classifications destroy individualism and contribute to the already-existing crisis of identity that many of us have.
ReplyDeleteThe languages we speak does not matter, nor the shade of our skin , nor our birth places. What I mean by they don’t matter is that a lot of people categorize themselves based on those things and limit themselves to go only as far as the titles they’re now tied to. This doesn’t mean you should omit your culture and forget how and where you grew up.
So, I agree with what you said on categorizing and belonging. You speak your language not because of a label but because it makes up who you are. Grow yourself a new you every day through this growth and stay awesome!
Hey Riley, coming from a Chinese background too, I can really relate to your story. Growing up, I could barely communicate with my grandparents as they spoke a dialect of Chinese which sounded like a completely different language to me. Just like you said, the Chinese I learned through a classroom did not matter at all in the real world. However, I could not possibly imagine the level of anxiety you went through as your dad told you that people in China liked to kidnap mixed children and that you were the sole translator for the entire family. I think it is really brave and respectable how you overcame your struggles with identity as someone who is mixed. I agree that even if you can or can not speak Chinese, it does not make you any less Chinese.
ReplyDeleteTo answer your question, I see identity not as something that decides who you are, but rather you are what makes up your identity. Every interaction, moment, and event in your life sums up to create your unique self. Thus, your identity is always changing too. I think your experiences through life aren’t just evidence to “prove” who you are, but actually create who you decide to be.