Year Of Empowerment
Every morning during my elementary school days, my dad woke up extra early to pack my lunch. He knew I loved the classic Chinese dish of tomato and egg stir-fry, so the whirr of the kitchen exhaust fans coming from downstairs was like music to my ears. He was always gone for work by the time I made it to breakfast, but my lunchbox was always on the countertop waiting for me. It was a daily ritual, and I cherished it. While the other kids were hyping up their slices of cheesy pizza and mounds of greasy fries, I was perfectly content with bringing my thermos of Chinese food to the cafeteria. Or so I thought.
The memory of this particular day has been ingrained in my head because, quite frankly, it really changed how I perceived myself. Lunchtime had finally arrived, so I found my friends in the cafeteria and joined them. The first time I had cracked open my thermos of food around them, they were genuinely curious about what I was eating. Soon they didn’t even bat an eyelid as I used chopsticks to scoop up rice. I felt right at home and never thought about how weird it was to be the only kid in a predominantly white school using chopsticks.
My food was especially mushy looking on that day, but no matter how amorphous it looked, the stir-fry was always delicious. It was delicious until some boy passed by, saw what I was eating, and in the most obnoxiously loud voice said, “Ewww, what are you eating?”
[su_pullquote align=”right”]When I went home that day, I begged my parents to let me buy food from the cafeteria. “All the cool kids buy their food,” I desperately pleaded; I’d much rather have been be cool than Asian.[/su_pullquote]I know that elementary schoolers don’t exactly have filters and he actually just thought my food looked disgusting, but at that very moment, I wanted to hide. I was ashamed because I, with my Chinese food and oriental utensils, was different. Everyone had their PB&Js, hamburgers, Lunchables, and my thermos stuck out like a sore thumb. When I went home that day, I begged my parents to let me buy food from the cafeteria. “All the cool kids buy their food,” I desperately pleaded; I’d much rather have been be cool than Asian.
In hindsight, I really managed to fool myself into thinking I had embraced my Asian American identity. Why? I embraced the most stereotypical aspects of what “being Asian” meant and fell into every Asian stereotype because that’s all I knew, and that’s what I believed my classmates expected of me. I belittled grades that weren’t an A. I exclusively focused on making math my best subject. I joined orchestra. I told everyone I wanted to become a doctor. Was this the level of “cool” that I was permitted to achieve with my yellow skin? Perhaps some people found me interesting and maybe even entertaining, but all I was doing was making a fool of myself. I’m not going to lie. It felt good that people automatically assumed I was smart, good at math, and played all sorts of instruments. But that feeling was shrouded by self-loathing. I was constantly playing the race card to boost myself into something that I wasn’t because I believed that was the only way society would accept me. That was the only way society could see past my yellow skin and “love” me for who I am.[su_pullquote]I was constantly playing the race card to boost myself into something that I wasn’t because I believed that was the only way society would accept me.[/su_pullquote]
Once I entered college, I started to understand what my Asian American identity meant to me. No longer is it a tool for me to justify my actions and beliefs. Instead, I choose to cherish it because it has nurtured me through its vast, ever-growing culture, taught me through its painful label as “token minority”, and most importantly, it has given me pride because of the multifaceted people I have met who proudly call themselves Asian Americans. Undoubtedly, it still is a source of insecurity at times, but I don’t want to treat these problems the same way I treated my tomato and egg stir-fry back in elementary school by sacrificing what I love; after all, empowerment comes from taking a stand for yourself, not for society or anyone else. Looking back at 2018, this past year has seen some of the most prolific moments in Asian American history. From immense Hollywood representation such as Crazy Rich Asians’ majority Asian American cast and Domee Shi’s debut as Pixar’s first Asian American short film director, to unparalleled feats accomplished in sports with Mirai Nagasu’s historical triple axel and Chloe Kim’s win as the youngest woman to earn gold in snowboarding during the Winter Olympics. And now we begin 2019 with the most Asian American congress in history. But you don’t need the world to turn its eyes on you when you shine. Sometimes all you really need is some tomato and egg stir-fry tucked away in your backpack for lunch.
Caron Song ‘19 studies in the School of Engineering & Applied Science. She can be reached at songcaron@wustl.edu.