AAYP 2015 Youth Ambassadors Scholarship

Nancy Cao

Sometimes I think I want a nice, thick slice of pepperoni pizza oozing with cheese— an American classic. Other times, I crave the delicious dim sum treat of shrimp wrapped in glutinous rice noodles and smothered in soy sauce.

The extremities of Asian and American culture don’t frequently overlap. From food preferences to cultural beliefs, juggling the essences of these two completely different worlds can be a problematic task, for an Asian American. As a first generation Chinese-American, my reflection in a mirror shows my almond-shaped dark brown eyes, rounded nose and extremely straight black hair— all indicatively Asian features. However, despite my outside appearance, my mind, thoughts and opinions all display my American upbringing. While the core values of Asians involve filial piety, Americans stress the notion of personal freedoms.

I’ve always remembered the dangers of dancing between the sharp line that marks the division point of being “respectful” to my Chinese parents and presenting my own opinion on a matter at hand. When I was little, differences in thinking between my mother and I would lead to the much used scold: “Don’t talk back!” in addition to “I’m older and therefore, I know much more than a child like you!” As I developed into my teenage years, I began to see the faults in such a statement. Not only did I feel the suppression of my words, I began to see that although my mother lived on this Earth for a much longer period of time than me, there were still many things that she did not completely know. As I tried to explain my point of view more frequently, it only led to more repression in addition to tension in the atmosphere. These tensions undoubtedly led to fights over the tiniest problems which spiraled into verbal battles involving harsh words that no one really meant in the heat of the moment. The attempt to dismiss my rejection of her ideals as a “teenage rebellion phase” made our relationship just as strained, if not more. It seemed like whenever we spoke, the unwavering clash of American ideas and Chinese beliefs would ring out, with neither one of us backing down. The venomous words that we spat at each other resulted in a sharp decrease of respect in our relationship and long periods of the silent treatment.

Oddly enough, the event that changed both of us was when I had food poisoning. In the dark moments while I was vomiting and crouching near the toilet with no one to rely on, I called my mother. Immediately, I was driven to the doctor and rushed to the drugstore for the medication prescribed. I had never felt so grateful and cared for, despite feeling horribly ill. I realized that despite our countless arguments and how much I hurt her and she hurt me, the Chinese importance of family triumphed all. For the first time in a long while, I stopped seeing her as my enemy. I began to listen. And after I listened, I spoke. I started using phrases such as “I understand you but…” and she started to do the same by treating me like a sixteen year old instead of the five year old that always listened obediently without question.

Our opinions have not changed but our thoughts regarding each other’s opinions have. I no longer reject every word that comes of of my Chinese mother’s mouth and she has learned to accept that sometimes I do not agree with her.

And most of the time, that’s okay.

The important part is that now, our communication is flowing, which is sadly not present in a number of Asian-American families. That aspect is the quintessential difference between Caucasian families and Asian households. Ever since I could speak freely without restraint at home, I found that I’ve become better at expressing myself. Because of the suppressive environment, I was never the child that jumped to the opportunity to speak out. Now, I’m still am not a fan of public speaking but I know how to better maintain friendships and relationships between my parents and my peers— where understanding and listening are key points.