Have you ever heard the term "ABC" outside of the context in teaching your kids their alphabet? "ABC" is a term I grew up with, one that was used so much, I often forget I might have to stop and define the acronym before continuing as if everyone around me understands it. Having grown up in a predominately Asian area, where all of my closest friends were Korean or Chinese, and all of my friends had parents who had come to the States in the 80s, I was unaccustomed to the obligatory pre-definition of the phrase, "ABC" for any of my friends. It was just understood. There were white people around. Ones with blonde hair, blue eyes, brown hair, hazel eyes, you know the like.. but none of these white people surrounded my life. None of them were close friends to me. Sure, they were in some of my classes, but to be honest, as soon as there was an advanced math class that separated most of us Asian students, we quickly found all our similar looking friends with similar parents with broken English and strict house rules and demands, and we clung to them. They understood the food we ate, rice every single night at home. They understood our no sleepover rules because they had the same ones. They understood the objective of school to get into a good college and a good job (defined as doctor, lawyer, or business - yes, that generally speaking). I cannot honestly say I had any truly American friends, the few I did encounter, I could count on my hands. I of course knew a handful on my dance team, that was still dominated by the American girls when I was on the team, but I always felt defined by how I looked. I now know, I let myself be defined. But it's hard when you can't exactly change the way you look, and you don't want to be classified as a banana (yellow on the outside, white on the inside), because in your group of like minded, similar looking Asian pride gang of friends, that is deemed wrong, offensive, and laughable.
ABC is a term we use to describe the fact that I am "American born Chinese." It's weird, because it doesn't actually make sense. I'm actually a Chinese born American. But in execution, it makes a lot o sense. I was always expected to maintain my Chinese culture, my look obviously could not be abandoned no matter how "American" I became, no matter the clothes I wore, or the crimped hair my mom would not let me get, or the big bangs I did not sport, or the push down socks I did have (yes!!! score one for being more American). One uttered Chinese word, and everyone would know I was ABC from my awkward American accent. One glance at my dark sun kissed skin, and one would know I was ABC and not using enough sun tan lotion (sunblock but for some reason every Asian person I know calls it suntan even when it's SUNBLOCK, it drives me insane EVERY SINGLE TIME). One eavesdropped loud guffaw of a chuckle, and one would know I was ABC because really Chinese girls don't laugh like that, they just submissively giggle. Tall, loud, proud.... and definitely ABC.
What I failed to understand was ABC is a shared experience across generations. When I married my half Chinese-half white husband, I became related to a bunch of his married Asian uncles, all who are second or third generation, but also "ABC" kids. This was shocking to me! They spoke perfect English, just like me. They spoke broken Chinese, just like me. They looked completely Asian, just like me. And yet they were so much older than me. They had lived in San Francisco in the 60s. They had lived in Utah in the 70s. But like me, they had eaten you fan for holidays. They had been taught to respect their elders in that strict Chinese filial piety way. They had to find their own voice in preserving their Chinese culture that was somewhat lost between their parents who were more Asian and them, who were less. And I guess this realization is what made me realize the immigrant experience of being ABC or ABK or ABJ or ABT, whatever.... is one that so many of us experience or our ancestors experience, and we need to talk about it, write about it, and share about it!
My thoughts are all over the place, but basically as a bunch of stories are coming out about the Chinese Exclusion Act, I've had all these conversations with my Uncle Jeffrey about this part of history that is finally being retold more accurately even though it's sad and infuriating at times, it's just a true story of the times, which indeed were different than now. But as I'm listening to these stories, I'm realizing not only that I have to share them with my kids, but that I have to, HAVE TO, write down my own before I forget or get old or die.
So here are a few of the stories that prompted my reawakening to my own Asian pride, so to speak. Not in the hate all the other races kind of way, but more in the proud of those who have come before me, who have dealt with similar struggles, common experiences, you get the idea.
Untold America: Part One
Untold America: Part Two
Chinese Exclusion Act Documentary
Cool article about Uncle Jeffrey's family finding their lost media
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