Growing Up Culturally Confused: A Story as Old as Time
This past summer, my sisters, all our boyfriends, and my dad took the journey back to my parents’ home country of Malaysia to celebrate our cousin getting married! It was a week full of celebrating love, being extra proud and excited about my culture, and feeling for the first time that I truly, culturally, fit in.
Growing up in the midwest state of Indiana, I was so used to being the only Asian kid in the classroom, in my grade, or in my school. White people surrounded me, and honestly I don’t think I ever thought about what it would be like to NOT be the token Asian kid.
In elementary school my lunches were different (I learned pretty quickly that white elementary school students do NOT know what baos are) and I wore a cheongsam every year for the first day of Chinese New Year. I was always asked if I spoke Chinese, and I proudly taught my classmates the words for “hello” and “apple,” the literal two words I knew LMAO.
When I started to go to middle school, my relationship with my culture started to fall away. I didn’t want to be the token Asian kid anymore. I wanted to be like everyone else, and in my life that meant trying to fit into white culture.
I remember learning from a girl at school about scrunching your hair, and immediately going home and trying to do it. It absolutely did not work because I have straight Asian hair, but I remember desperately wanting it to work. I know that doesn’t sound important, but in my head I remember feeling like that was the end of the world.
Somewhere in middle school, I started to really distance myself away from my Asian heritage. I immersed myself into 2013 Tumblr culture and One Direction and tried to live as far away from culture as I could.
When I entered high school, I was suddenly introduced to the two other Asian families at the school. My older sister Simone had become friends with both of the family’s kids, and one of the kids had a brother my age. I was suddenly not the singular Asian in my grade!
The kid in my grade, Nicky, was a Thai-American that lived in my neighborhood. My sister became good friends with his brother, and I became good friends with him. Suddenly, I was reintroduced back into Asian culture and I wasn’t alone this time.
My new friendship with Nicky came with new introductions to very Asian culture; specifically to the show Avatar the Last Airbender. I know this is a childhood cartoon and many people have probably seen at least one episode, but I remember my sister and I having NO idea what it was. With a strong encouragement from Nicky, my sister and I found a random, very sketchy website online to watch the show and suddenly everything changed.
For the first time ever, I was seeing Asian culture incorporated into a media in a way that was genuinely exciting and interesting. Asian martial arts, food, and culture was woven into the show so seamlessly, and I became excited and proud to be a part of that world. I remember expressing this sentiment to Nicky one day and he looked at me like I was crazy. His one response to my revelation was, “didn’t you know being Asian is cool???”
My relationship and love for my culture only grew when I went to boarding school. For my last two years of high school, I left my hometown and attended an academically-focused boarding school, and for the first time ever I had a squad of friends that were majority Asian. We could talk about our similar childhoods, the foods we loved, and communicate in Chinese when we didn’t want people to know what we were saying. For the first time ever, I felt like I belonged.
I am a rare mix of Hakka Chinese, Malaysian, and American, and I am so proud of who I am and where my family comes from. When I was younger, the world around me influenced me into thinking that Asians all look the same, are only good at school, eat dogs, and can only play the sidekick character who probably does karate. Now that I’m older and have a better understanding and appreciation for who I am, I know how to stand up for myself and the people I love.
Because it’s Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, let’s get a few things straight for my non-Asian people. Don’t ask me where I’m really from, don’t tell me “you’re Asian, but you’re not that Asian,” don’t ask me to recite random things in Chinese, and please, oh my god PLEASE, stop doing the fox eye trend!!! It’s really not cute, and I do not appreciate it. Also, as my sister said in her own blog post about this very topic, “Would also love if you stopped saying you had Asian eyes because you squinted in a picture once. Very offensive and even if I didn’t call you out on it, I noted it and have downgraded the value of our friendship.” Re-freaking-tweet.
It seems strange for me to look back at my childhood and see the shame that I used to carry on being Asian American. I’m doing better now, and I hope to only continue learning about and loving my cultural heritage.