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I realized, walking through the streets of old Guangzhou, that China is my home. There’s no one way to “look” Chinese or be Chinese, and that any way I feel is true to me should be sufficient for everybody else.
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But I am not a doll for anyone to parade around and brag about. I am not a dish spiced mildly enough to round out a white man’s palate without challenging his Eurocentric views.
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I felt like only I could understand exactly what was going on in both languages. So I bore double the burden and experienced double the emotional pain. I was the only thing keeping my parents together, the only person who could get them to communicate.
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My multicultural upbringing is a source of pride and joy, not a stranger’s tangled yarn to cut up and reorganize. So when you ask me where I’m from, challenge your monocultural norms first.
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A new day begins with a warm, citrus tint cast above the city. I can see it clearly with all its lurid delights. The soo’q (market) is busy with mothers bargaining for lower prices on cabbages and eggplants while children stray further down the marketplace, toward the livestock. They race
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It’s not that the train ride provided me with the answers to some of life’s biggest questions, but I do believe that it lessened the burden of those questions. Sitting on a train for days and being forced to become comfortable with just watching the movement of the world outside calmed me down.
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My holiday season always begins the same way — I sit impatiently in an almost-empty BART train car hurtling itself away from the chaotic streets of Downtown Berkeley to the sleepy suburbs of the South Bay. Phone in hand, I scroll absentmindedly through my Instagram feed, sifting through perfectly filtered
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“The word that I use to describe the era we’re living in now — absurd,” explained Barinholtz. “I knew that … if I was going to touch on some of these issues, it couldn’t just be a pure comedy.” It’s clear that Barinholtz, like many of us, sees the humor in the darkness of Trump’s presidency.
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I was touched by this country even before I boarded the 17-hour flight that brought me to America. Growing up, my friends would go through whole bags of M&M’s, watch Hollywood films and dream of sunny California. We’d fantasize about free water fountains, and gosh, Mum, can we make those PB&J sandwiches, please? We’d discuss how Americans were perpetually in the future.
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It’s worth noting that “BlacKkKlansman” is very emphatically not just about Colorado Springs, nor is it just about the 1970s.
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