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Growing up in an ordinary Chinese immigrant family, surrounded by Chinese friends and always enjoying Chinese cuisine, I had never questioned my cultural and ethnic heritage.[1] Even though my familiarity with the language, especially with more eloquent means of expression,[2] was lacking, I still saw myself as Chinese, and proudly so. With this mindset driving my na?ve grade-school self, I felt the need to defend my culture against those who did not appreciate it.[3] Yet when my horizon was finally expanded with the start of university, I realized that being Chinese was far more than simply wolfing down chive dumplings.[4] Instead, my experiences have enlightened me to how language plays an enormous role in not only building a cultural and ethnic identity, but also integrating into a community that can eventually become a home. Fifth grade was the first time I started to bring lunches from home, instead of eating at the school cafeteria[5]. Normally, my meals were quite tame: sandwiches, some pasta, perhaps some fried rice on occasion.[6] But one day I brought the traditional Northern Chinese style dumpling, stuffed with pork and chives. I had just lifted the lid of my Tupperware to breathe in the dumplings’ familiar aroma when I heard a loud groan from the back of the class.[7] I turned and saw the Caucasian kids all grimacing and holding their noses.[8] In a massive herd, they scrambled over each other to sit as far as possible from me.[9] “What is that? It stinks[10]!” Raising my eyebrows, I shrugged[11] and replied “it’s just dumplings.” Big mistake. From that moment onwards, no matter what kind of food I brought, those Caucasian classmates would screech “Hey Leo! Did you bring dumplings today?” For a while, I brushed them off.[12] But there was only so much taunting I could endure before I cracked.[13] When the shrill “Hey Leo! Did you bring dumplings today?” rang out for the umpteenth time, I leapt out of my seat and slammed the table as I started screaming.[14] “Hey! Will you stop it?! There is nothing wrong with my dumplings!” Silence fell over the classroom. My teacher glared at me and told me to sit back down. That was my first experience of being discriminated against[15] based on my cultural identity. Granted, this was only a minor incident, and cannot compare to the level of discrimination that some of my peers and classmates of other ethnicities experience. Nevertheless, this incident could represent the difficulties of Asians integrating into Western, or primarily[16] American, culture. This process is perhaps the most difficult during middle school, when kids begin to label themselves and their peers according to societal stereotypes.[17] The Asians, especially those who were not born in North America, become divided into two subcategories that overlap: the nerds and the FOBs, otherwise known as the “Fresh off the Boat.”[18] While the nerd label is household knowledge for most people, perhaps the FOB terminology may be confusing, precisely because what is considered FOB behaviour is simply everyday life in Asian cities.[19] With hair swept up and dyed like Korean pop stars for the boys and short skirts and layers of make-up for the girls, these FOBs are regarded with derision for their showy lifestyles.[20] As a result, they usually gather together in their own packs[21], not interacting with the native students. Personally, I fitted into the nerd category, since I always walked around with my nose in a book. My image was not helped by the jars of Chinese traditional medicine I would bring to school that would always make my friends’ eyes bulge at the blackish-brown liquid.[22] Yet I revelled[23] in this identity, for it differentiated me from the crowd. Yet this confidence in my identity faced a challenge when I went to boarding school[24], and even more so when I entered university. When people from all over the world come to learn in one place, we inevitably have students from China. For some reason though, I could not fit in perfectly with them. Be it the language barrier, or simply the culture, I was in short, the most American of all the Chinese there. I may know how to speak Mandarin, and have been working on my reading and writing over the past few years. But without a mastery over the language, I can only smile blankly when native speakers spin the wordplay that comes only with a life spent in China.[25] I faced the question of where I belonged, if I was not Chinese enough to be truly Chinese, yet too entrenched[26] in my heritage to call myself American. Upon reflection of my own plight[27], I realized that perhaps the same situation applies with Chinese teenagers who have just moved to North America. Thrown into a world where the two accepted languages are English or silence, they congregate amongst themselves in an effort to find an outlet to express their culture.[28] Despite being away from China in the spatial realm, they replicate their home environment in almost every other way, as their friend groups are primarily other immigrants who feel just as out of place.[29] Since they huddle together everyday, they have no incentive[30] to speak English, or even learn the language properly. Not only that, they barely venture[31] past the boundaries of the Chinese community. Perhaps it’s because they also do not have a mastery of the local language. Without a mastery of the English language, they can easily be tricked: something they spent their entire lives preventing against in China.[32] Although I have detailed the times I felt out of place, I would like to end on a happy note.[33] Last summer when I visited Beijing, I finally felt like home. Even though at first I was completely out of my comfort zone, the environment forced my Mandarin to improve by leaps and bounds.[34] Thus with a better grasp on the language, especially when I could express myself with more than just a fifth-grader’s vocabulary, I walked the streets filled with more confidence than ever before. Perhaps the best advice to those coming to America, or any other English-speaking country, would be to take the leap and throw oneself into the community. Just as Alibaba’s founder Jack Ma practiced his English by talking to any foreigner he could find, I encourage anyone hoping to integrate into Western culture to jump at any opportunity to practice the language. After all, embarrassment is only temporary, but the knowledge of how to fit in to . [1]. Chinese cuisine: 中国菜；ethnic heritage: 民族遗产。 [2]. familiarity with: 熟悉，精通；eloquent: 流畅的，口才流利的。 [3]. mindset: 心态；defend against: 保卫。 [4]. 但是随着进入大学后眼界的开阔，我意识到了作为一个中国人不光只是会狼吞虎咽地吃韭菜饺子那么简单。horizon: 眼界；wolf down: 狼吞虎咽地吃；chive dumpling: 韭菜饺子。 [5]. cafeteria: 自助餐厅。 [6]. tame: 简单的，平常的；on occasion: 偶尔，有时。 [7]. Tupperware: 特百惠，一个塑料保鲜容器品牌，这里指午餐饭盒；aroma: 芳香；groan: 发出不满的声音。 [8]. Caucasian: 白种人的；grimace: 扮鬼脸，作怪相；hold nose: 捏住鼻子。 [9]. 他们一大帮人，互相推搡着坐在尽可能远离我的地方。herd: 人群；scramble: 争抢。 [10]. stink: 发出臭味。 [11]. shrug: 耸肩。 [12]. brush off: 撇开。 [13]. taunting: 嘲弄；crack: 崩溃。 [14]. shrill: 尖叫声；ring out: 突然响起；umpteenth: 第无数次的；slam: 猛拍，猛击。 [15]. discriminate against: 歧视，排斥。 [16]. primarily: 主要地。 [17]. societal: 社会的； stereotype: 固定模式，成规。 [18]. subcategory: 子类别；overlap: 部分重叠；nerd: 呆子；FOB: Fresh off the Boat的缩写，新移民。 [19]. “呆子”这个称号对多数人来说司空见惯，可能FOB（新移民）这个词会令人感到困惑，恰恰因为“新移民”的行为只是亚洲城市中（人们）的日常行为而已。terminology: 术语；precisely: 恰恰，正好； [20]. 这些“新移民们”中，男孩们的头发像韩国歌星一样进行打理和染色，女孩们穿着短裙，画着浓妆，他们因为这种炫耀的生活方式被人嘲笑。sweep up: 收拾干净；derision: 嘲笑；showy: 炫耀的，显眼的。 [21]. pack: 一群，一伙。 [22]. bulge: 突出，这里指“瞪大眼睛看”；blackish-brown: 棕黑色。 [23]. revel: 陶醉。 [24]. boarding school: 寄宿学校。 [25]. blankly: 茫然地；spin: 编造；wordplay: 双关语； [26]. entrenched: 根深蒂固的。 [27]. plight: 困境。 [28]. congregate: 聚集；outlet: 发泄的途径。 [29]. 尽管离开了中国这个空间范畴，他们仍然在方方面面都按照在国内的方式生活，他们结交的朋友们也主要是那些 和新环境格格不入的移民们。spatial: 空间的； realm: 范围；replicate: 复制；every other: 所有其他的；out of place: 不合适的 [30]. incentive: 动机，诱因。 [31]. venture: 冒险。 [32]. trick: 欺骗，哄骗；prevent against: 预防。 [33]. feel out of place: 感到尴尬，不自在；note: 音符，这里比喻“美好的结局”。 [34]. comfort zone: 舒适区；by leaps and bounds: 突飞猛进地。 |
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