Across the Ocean

When my parents told me that we were leaving Hong Kong, I didn’t fully comprehend. All I knew was that we were getting on an airplane and going to someplace called ‘America’, and all I knew of America was that it was the home of Mickey Mouse and Snoopy. What five-year-old wouldn’t be happy to go to Disneyland? Like I said, I didn’t understand what was happening.

My grandparents, aunts and uncles, and many cousins followed us to the airport to say goodbye. We took photo after photo. Sometimes I smiled; sometimes I just stared with big eyes. “Is something going on? Why is everyone making a big deal about this?” They knew something I didn’t, that my relationship with them would never be the same after this. We would grow up in different worlds.

There are times when I wish I were better friends with my cousins. I wish I could attend their weddings and know their children. And I definitely wish I had more time with my grandparents. For many years I wondered how my life would have turned out if I had never left Hong Kong. What would it have been like, growing up in a place where I didn’t stand out because of my hair or skin color? Who would have been my friends, when we all shared a common background, ate similar foods, spoke the same language?

But now I know that where I grew up didn’t change the core of who I am: a writer, a musician, an idealist, a teacher. Growing up in the United States has undoubtedly shaped me, as the wind and rain shapes a cliff face, but I am essentially the same person. Hong Kong might have made me a snazzier dresser, a better Cantonese speaker, or a connoisseur of dim sum, but what’s the use of dwelling on the might haves?

If anything, growing up as a person of dual cultures has given me a deeper desire to connect with my past, and the desire to give my children that same connection. I also love experiencing other cultures and appreciating the similarities and differences between us. Most importantly, I have much sympathy for those who have also come across the ocean. I know what it’s like to be the outsider, and I know the feeling of being ostracized for my ethnicity. Though I wish I could say that racial prejudice no longer exists in the United States, it still does, and I can be one to educate people through my writing and teaching. And so, for that, I am glad I came to ‘America’.