Mom's Response

NOTE: this post began two years ago.....

Two Years Ago:  
Ugh, I hate that I'm 33 and I still care what my mom thinks.  I'm ticked off because I got my bangs cut and I knew my mom wouldn't approve, but I just needed a change.  As predicted, my dad first told me, "your mom's not going to be happy about that haircut."  I knew it.  I still was hopeful.  I finally talked to her and this was her response.

"Is that hair real?"

"Why would you go and cut your beautiful hair to look like that?  Well, don't worry, it'll grow out soon enough."

And that is why I have all these weird insecurity issues.

I got my bangs cut again a year later because I really liked they way they looked and it covered my aging forehead.  "Don't FaceTime me with that hair, I can't stand it." she tells me.

November 2017: 
And now, as we inch towards the end of Fall, I want to cut my bangs again, and I am 35 now, and I am still nervous about what she will say... about how I should limit the amount of FaceTime during the time I sport these bangs.  Why?  Why is it that a grown, educated, experienced, and smart Asian woman like myself cannot bring herself to go get her bangs cut because of the impending doom and judgment my mom would exhibit towards me?  Why?!

the bangs my mom disapproves of.  "looks like China girl" 

Shoulda Known

So... I had this great idea for family photos since we haven’t had one with my mom and dad since almost four years ago, before I had my third and fourth child.  I was about five months post partum and we were going to go visit her in a week once school is out for my kids.  I thought she’d be excited and thankful for my brilliant idea, and I sincerely thought it was a great idea! After all, Asians LOVE taking photos!  

"What do you think about family photos when we come in May, Mom?"

“Well, maybe we should waiting until you lose the baby weight.”  That was her very as a matter of fact response. 

I wasn’t offended.  I think I chuckled before agreeing with her suggestion.  She must have sensed I was a bit offended... because then she said, "well, think about it, these photos will be FOREVER, so of course you have to be skinny for it."  

2013: our last family photo..
includes my brother's ex who Mom still hopes will become her other daughter...

Oh Mom.  

So honest.  Sometimes too much so.  Overbearing.  Almost always so.  Difficult.  Never have I known life otherwise.  You know, when it's your mom, you just learn to live with it, to adapt, to compromise, okay who am I kidding?! to give in!  Love your mom and be a good daughter.  

It doesn’t help that my mom is Chinese, always justifying every odd rule, too strict regulation, or completely insane input as her simply being Chinese.

From a young age, my mom repeatedly reminded me of my duty to be the good Chinese daughter.  I know because I am to respect my seniors, which means I loudly acknowledge all adults in my presence with the proper Chinese greeting, even if it means once on my own accord, and then once again when my mom tells me to in front of them.  I know every stranger with black hair and yellow skin who speaks Chinese words is an “auntie” or an “uncle” because that is the polite and right way to greet someone.  I know to respect everyone older than me because I have spent hours burning incense, folded paper gold bars, paper money for the dead, and even miniature paper homes with furniture to be burnt to honor and respect my dead ancestors, and then bowing in front of an elaborate spread of fruit, steamed buns, chicken, and cooked greens by their framed photos.  I know because I have done every good Chinese girl activity from playing an instrument to doing Chinese knotting to traditional Chinese dancing with ribbons, fans, and even chopsticks.  I have abided by the expectations of good grades (even in PE!), strict rules (no dating while in high school... in college, it just became a blurred non-sequitur and then all of a sudden, it was when are you going to get married?!) and endured.  I’ve grown up always feeling like I’m never good enough, that there’s always something more I can do, someone I can be better than, and somewhere I ought to be instead of what I’m doing, who I am and where I am. 

And yet I love and express extreme gratitude to my mom.  I’m not sure where I’d be without her.  She’s one of my best friends.  I talk to her almost everyday.  And yet, when my skin is breaking out in a heat rash, I know to avoid video chat.  When she tells me I need to start doing chin exercises (because I'm not holding my ipad or iphone high up and the angle is all wrong), I just laugh it off.

I’m grateful for my mom.  I’m not always happy with her, in fact more often than not, I’m furious.  I don’t get it.  I don’t get her.  She fails to show any form of logic or reason and I just don’t get it.  But there’s also a large amount of respect for the effort and dedication to her Chinese ways, albeit not all correct, all taught me something. 

The difficulty for me was not realizing I was any different since I grew up in a sheltered Asian community.  For the most part, all my friends were Asian immigrant children as well.  The few times I befriended Americanized Asians and white people, the cultural disparity was shockingly obvious and painfully scarring.  This is normally when my relationship with my mom is magnified as one step away from a bi-polar breakdown.  Despite her teachings being the backbone of sound principle and judgment, tradition and family, they also became the reminders of being different, insecure, and alone.

As a grown adult, I work with a lot of similar immigrant children, coaching them in public speaking.  Along the way, I find myself mentoring them, reminding them that their immigrant parents mean well and the non-emotional Chinese ways of love through over bearing criticism and blunt feedback (you looking fat, why do you grades being so bad?) are not truly representative of them or their intentions.  I know our American friends would not understand the mild eating disorders and body image insecurities our immigrant parents have instilled in us.  I know our American friends would also not understand the unwavering financial support our parents continuously provide despite us being grown adults or the brand new cars they bought us at the young irresponsible age of sixteen.  Love is defined differently by Chinese moms.  It’s providing a meal, an education, material goods, and advising you on your shortcomings, no matter how hurtfully honest.  My mom and I hug when we see each other now, but it’s not reminiscent of my childhood nor is it comfortable or familiar.  But when my mom buys me facials, nice shoes, or takes me out to a nice meal, I feel warmth, a sense of belonging and sweet outpouring of love. 

I have no regrets or resentment towards my mom, only love and appreciation for her efforts and awkward navigation through our cultural attempts at assimilating to the American culture.   

Double Eyelids

Plastic surgery is not a big deal in the Asian culture.  In fact, double eyelid surgery is one of the most common surgeries Asians undergo in an attempt to have bigger eyes.  Ask any white person what it means to have “double eyelids” and you’ll get a blank stare.  Ask any Asian person what it means to have “double eyelids” and they will tell you it is great, it is lucky, it is beauty!

All my life, I heard how unfortunate I was to have fallen into the category of single eyelid Asian.  Not as pretty, not as lucky, not as privileged as those with the big crease in their lid Asians.  I had one girl cousin growing up and she had some fat double eyelids.  I would hear, well she has double eyelids, you have long legs.  You got the consolation prize of long legs but she got the double eyelids.  But hey, you can’t get surgery to make your legs long, you can get surgery to make your eyes big! Yeah, they never said that but I’m sure that’s what they were thinking. 

For as long as I can remember, my aunt was going to “gift” me double eyelids as part of my high school graduation celebration.  This way, my eyes would be double by the time I got to college and nobody would remember from high school and nobody would know from college.  Except anytime I see an Asian girl walk by with fake double eyelids, I can spot ‘em like fake tits at a girls’ neck that have not yet fallen with gravity.  I just know they’re not real.  Most of the time, the crease is made so high above the eye that the cut is just poorly done and only camaflouged with some serious eye make-up.  It’s sort of like boob jobs, nobody goes in to get boob implants that are small A’s or even B’s – go big or go home!  So nobody really goes in to get their eyelid surgery asking for a smaller thinner, less obvious lid.  And the lengths we will go to sport a double eyelid if we do not already have one! 

In 1996, my freshman year of high school, someone mentioned something about tape to create a double eyelid in math class.  I was intrigued, and then I was hooked.  There was no going back.  I had to know more.  I had to get myself some.  This was too good to be true.  My best friend had heard the same thing.  So we both asked around – who said it first?  Who used it first?  Does it actually work?  And what kind of tape was it?  How did you cut it?  How long did it last?  Did it really work?!

A bunch of older sophomore girls had experience with the so called tape.  They let us in on the secret.  It was so simple.  Why hadn’t we thought of it first?! 

Scotch. Freaking. Tape.  It was uncomfortable.  It was itchy.  It was probably not sanitary.  It was a temporary solution.  But let me be the first to tell you, it was incredible, extraordinary, and absolutely amazing!!!

I remember the first time I busted out a pair of scissors to cut out a small rectangle just the perfect width of my eye, with enough height to create a fake fold in my eyelid.  It took a few tries, but once I snuggled the tape onto my eyelid right at the base above my eyelashes, it was incredible.  Well, as long as I kept my eye open – it was incredible!  Big eyes!  Round eye!  Like white people!  So so beautiful.  I stood in front of the mirror on my closet door perfecting the cut of tape.  I still remember the little shreds of tape I practiced cutting that sat on the edge of the mirror as I attempted, one after another, to find the perfect one that would fit on my lid, stay in my lid when my eyes open, and hopefully not poke out too much when I closed my eye.  Most of the time, I’d blink and the tape would fold outward… with extended wear, the tape would start to wear off and it’d come off at the ends and I’d have an awkwardly hangnail of a scotch tape on my eye.  I tried not to blink often.  If only I could just keep my eyes open longer.  People would politely tell me that I had some tape on my eye.  Not immediately though, after staring closely at my eyes everytime I blinked because of the shine that would catch from the scotch tape. 

“There’s something on your eye.” 

“Wait, is that TAPE on your eye?”  The questions were always asked disbelievingly so. 

As if I had stepped into an asylum with a diagnosis of “wanting to be too white and have larger round eyes.” 

But guess who got the last laugh?  A few months into taping my eyes (yes, I did it every morning, and sometimes I redid it during the afternoon… it was high school after all), a natural super thin crease found its way to my eye all on its own.  I remember blinking in disbelief, looking at my own reflection of a double eyelid thinking – maybe I won’t need the eyelid surgery after graduation after all!  I took special care and made sure to wash my face gently as to not disturb the lid fold, in fear it would disappear on me if I washed too hard.  I felt good about the fact that I wouldn’t have to go under the knife.  I mean, it was a routine surgery, completely normal and almost expected.. but it was still surgery after all! Girls I knew would go to Taiwan for a quick trip and come back with some huge eyelids and some professional photos (more on that later too)!  Sometimes, girls would say it was because their eyes were too small and it was corrective, not cosmetic surgery.  Kind of like how white girls who get nose jobs blame it on a deviated septum. Every. Single. Time.  Whatever.  They looked good, especially with make-up on.  They made eyelid surgery very tempting except now I had one lid fold and only had to tape the other… so, how would the surgery work? 

            When my dad and mom caught on to my newfound love of scotch tape cut into little rectangles that sat atop my eyelids, they told me that I could get precut tape from Taiwan easily. 

            And they were holding this coveted information from me for how long?!  For almost sixteen years, they said nothing of the sort to me at all!  There was no mention of this incredible magical “tape” that was already PRECUT!  I was absolutely floored.  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on some.  I had all my friends who visited Taiwan annually get me some, I told my aunts and uncles who lived overseas to bring me back some in the summer, and I bought enough to last me a lifetime the summer of 2002.  Yes, I used tape from 1996 to 2002 and some….   

            The legit precut Taiwan eye tape was just as obvious as my DIY-Scotch tape version, only it was less itchy and because it was precut, I started to get creative with putting black eyeliner on it before taping it onto my lids.  But still, every time I blinked, this huge black thing would stick out of my eye, making people think I had some weird thing on my eye.  Except the other Asian girls who did the same thing, they always understood and silently approved and fist bumped me in the air every time we walked by each other. 

            My best friend was one of these so called Asian gals.  We couldn’t get enough of taping our eyes.  It was free plastic surgery with no pain (the itchiness that came with the tape grew on us and we honestly never felt any pain from the rough edges of the tape when we used the tape dispenser’s knife). 

            And then one magical day, a few years into our college years, our eyelid lives got even better when I stumbled across … eye glue! 

            It was absolutely transforming.  We went from taping our eyelids everyday to gluing our eyelids everyday.  The packaging was direct from Japan, land of more Asians probably taping their eyes – but since Japan was on the verge of all fashion outbreaks even before Taiwan, they already had eye glue!

            The bottle looked just like a mascara bottle.  Only there was a funky little rake that came on top of the lid (this would be used to rake the eyelid into a double lid once the glue was applied).  Inside, it was glue – think eyelash glue, with a little brush that could be used to apply it softly across your lids.  Then, you’d utilize the rake to fold your eyelid in  and boom – you had double eyelids! 

            The downside to eyelid glue was that it was glue.  Glue is sticky.  Glue is unforgiving.  Mess up your fold and your eyelids would become victim to harsh rubbing and prying to rid the eyelid of the glue which would do its job and guess what?  Stick on!  Sometimes eyelashes were sacrificed.  Other times the folds were done too drastic and the eye would be WAY TOO BIG due to a humongous eyelid fold.  Most of the times though, it was absolutely wonderful. 

            Grace and I used eye glue everyday on our one lone eye without lids (she also had one lid miraculously show up after using eye tape for a few months).  We confessed to each other that we weren’t sure how this would play out once we had a serious boyfriend.  Would we let them in on the fact that one of our eyes was *gasp … a single eyelid?!  Or would we always make sure our eyelids were glued, even after marriage – we’d wake up in the morning and glue our eyelids before our husbands saw our heaven forbid – single eyelids?!   

And then a funny thing happened in my 20’s.  The left eyelid, the one I glued everyday.. it became more permanent after each gluing session and slowly, I had hope that it might one day become permanent!  I’d glue my eyelid every morning for a week, and sometimes, it’d still be there in the morning at the end of a long week.  I’d go by months before waking up to an eyelid that didn’t disappear.  But these few instances of a double eyelid on its own gave me hope.  Maybe I could get one without glue one day!  In the meantime, I kept at the eye glue.  Every single day.  I never work make-up religiously, but my eye glue?  I wouldn’t go out without it.  I even carried a little bottle with me in case I had to wash my face and the glue off and would need to reapply.  And with time, it slowly became more prominent of a lid without glue. Instead of months between an eyelid that stuck around in the morning, it’d become weeks, then days… and then one day, it just stuck around.  

they may be small folds, but they be folds regardless

Just Hand Me Some Sun-In Already

Obedient Chinese daughters shall...
1. Never used Sun-In in their hair

In middle school, I once asked my mom if I could put Sun-In, a spray in hair lightener, to turn my hair from black to brown.  “Why do you wanting to look more like American?” she asked me. Her voice hadn't gotten louder, but from the intent look in her stare, I knew she was furious and upset.  "Your black hair is beautiful!  Don't go ruining it with that artificial hurting your hair stuff!"  

I hadn’t really given it much thought.  All the Asian girls were doing it.  I liked the way it looked.  And, it would make me so much cooler.  Who didn't want their hair to turn brown?  

"Well, if you really want to do something that is natural, try using beer," she told me.  

"Beer?"  Was she serious?

"Yes, your Yi-Ma and I both did it when we were younger.  Making hair look beautiful.  Silky, healthy, beer good for hair, might turn it a little lighter naturally."  

"Would you get me some beer?" I couldn't believe I was asking my mom to buy me some beer, not to consume, but to wash my hair with.

"Yes, we'll get you some beer.  No Sunning-In"  

I'd never been one to go against my mom's wishes.  Sure, I talked back all the time.  But never anything too offensive, in my defense, I was just a curious child.  

How badly I wanted some brown hair against my tan too dark skin.  Beer it was.  Maybe I'd even try a sip of it.  

A few days later, we finally got some beer for my hair.  It smelled like expired pee.  How could anyone drink this stuff?  I poured it over my hair, stopping to take one small sip, then spitting it out before I could even consume it at the shock of the rancid bitter taste.  

I washed my hair with six cans of Budlight beer in the seventh grade.  My mom ooed and awwed that it was looking so healthy and lighter.  My closest friends just laughed and mocked me, asking me why I didn't just use some of their Sun-In and then explain that the beer was working!  

To be honest, I was too scared.  Luckily, in light of my cowardice, I withheld from rebelling and stuck with my dark black, now oozing of beer aroma Chinese hair.  As the sun actually set in, everyone's hair turned nice and auburn, but as time wore on it, the auburn turned to a shocking orange and it looked absolutely putrid.  As all my friends wished for their hair to return to its natural black, I secretly thanked my mom for her weird rules.  I guess my mom was right.