Then there are times when I start talking to someone on Match or another swipe-to-date app who happens to be of Indian-origin and asks me how I know so much about Indian-ness, and I give them the even more awkward answer, "oh I was married to one". And the awkward begins all over again.
For me this is the typical life of someone who looks Chinese, feels Chinese at heart, but knows I'm better than that because I'm American-raised, but then feels a little bit Turkish and Indian at the same time. How can this be, you say? LIFE. We are not just born into the bodies we are presenting to the world as we were born to be, we soak up others' cultures, others' values, others' like/dislikes, others' preferences for things, and when we are taken out of that "otherly" context, we feel lost and naked and unsure who we are anymore. I feel that every, single, day.
I was born in Beijing, then moved all over town between my parents' friends flats and between my different grandparents' homes, and then my parents had gotten housing from their work and we finally had our own place when I was around three or four. Then it was time for school, we lived in a terrible school district. My parents wanted me to go to the "best school" so they make it look like I lived with my maternal grandparents near East District of Beijing, a few blocks from the famous Fu Que, a school that have been around educating royalties and ministries since the Qing/Ming Dynasties. During my first interview with the school admissions staff I told them the truth, that I lived an hour away up north by the then famous 1993 Asian Olympic Village, way outside of civilization at the time. I remember this as a 4 year old vividly because right after this interview of the adult I had gotten one of the worst beatings of my life with a belt for screwing up my admissions process. Eventually someone in the family pulled some strings and I got another interview and this time I knew the right answers. I got in.
I wasn't the best or smartest student, I got meh grades and I was harassed and manipulated by classmates in 1st grade. The multicolored crayons my dad had gotten me from Hong Kong and numerous other cool gadgets were stolen right from under my desk. Those days we had a cubby right underneath our desks where we kept books and personal belongings as students while in class. My mom had crocheted a red wool scarf and hat, which was taken and tossed out in the garbage bin for the sake of revenge by one of the girls. In my vague memory of this incident I was pushed, shoved, and my stuff was thrown out by the most sinister girl I've ever met. My parents got involved and my girl cousin, who was one year above me in the same school, had to get her big sister classmates to stand up for me. Other than that, I was a tom-boy who pushed boys to the wall and got into wrestling fights with them, and was somehow always in trouble with something.
I spent my summers and spring break in Hong Kong with my dad, climbing on monkey bars and apparently speaking fluent Cantonese to other children I played with in the Taikoo Village residential high-rise tower community playground. Hong Kong had the best pork and fish burgers from McDonalds Happy Meal and I had a best friend named Zhang JiHang. I don't actually have memories of him but there are pictures and I've seen enough to find that I can't tell if I have real memories or if those were just my mind rendering real memories with photos I've seen. We'd go to the beaches together with our parents and play arcade games, which is pretty much all I can remember. I also have flashes of Shenzhen and maybe the photos helped to piece things together over the years, that I had spend a good chunk of time there as well as a child. Then one summer, I was in Johannesburg, South Africa, hearing a kid and his brother talk about cadillacs and munching on biltong. I distinctly remember going to this theme park called "Gold Rift City" where they pour a brick of gold right in front of the audience during the show, and right after it cools, the audience is invited to pick the brick up with just the thumb and index finger. Whoever can pick it up gets to take the gold brick home! So much fun! We also drove ourselves into a natural preserve with lions, ostriches, and giraffes roaming about freely without a care, while us tourists took endless photos with our film cameras. Then we were driving to a casino with flashing lights and a car rotating on display over slot machines and then a magical place called "table mountain" in the far distance. I didn't know what I was doing there, I thought it was just a fun trip, until years later I asked about that memory with my parents. Apparently that summer was a "test immigration" for us to see if we could move there permanently. Good thing we didn't get very comfortable in the 4 bedroom ranch home and swimming pool with two servants of a house we had been living in while at Johannesburg. Then I was back in school in Beijing.
One day in 3rd grade, in the public girls bathroom, the vice principal happened to be doing her business as well and we started a conversation. She asked me how I felt about going to America and I didn't know what she was talking about. My memories after that were a blur, from finding out in a school bathroom that I was going to immigrate to the US to the plane ride over to San Francisco International Airport. I do remember that my dad and I got luckily upgraded to the second floor of the 747 we were flying and that I watched several movies on the way over on the big projector screen and offered gum (that was in a pink beeper case) to my seat neighbors in front of me. Then we were in Albany, California.
[I'm going to write my story in several posts and perhaps over many days/weeks/months... but this was my early childhood of pre-America] ... to be continued