Traditional Chinese mindset of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’
“Your sister isn’t making any sense.”
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Tenseless, untenable
Kind of chaos
Admitting that I want to be a writer frightens me because it feels as though I would have to relinquish my own temporality.
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Recognizing my white privilege
The Half of It
As I unpack the implications of doing racial justice work as a white-passing womxn, I realize that recognizing my white privilege does not invalidate my identity as a Chinese womxn and a person of color.
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Dumplings full of culture
The Half of It
The childhood memories associated with food always remind me of the significance of my Chinese heritage that is erased because I’m mixed. Even when the world may not perceive me as Chinese, these memories of cooking with family and friends affirm my connection to China.
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Becoming Jewish
The Half of It
Coming to terms with a cultural and religious identity is a long process, but I’m determined not to let anyone else’s perception of Jewishness dictate how I define my Judaism.
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Chinese enough
The Half of It
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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Not your exotic trophy
The Half of It
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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The names they’ve called me
The Half of It
“Oh God, not again,” I thought to myself as a new Tinder match messaged me. “So… what are you?” I could honestly make a living from charging $5 every time I’ve been asked this question. My ethnic ambiguity is so confusing to people that they feel entitled to know exactly
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Call me by my (full) name
The Half of It
Learning to embrace my name has been a constant struggle. In both China and America, people attempt to use modified versions of my full name to make me palatable. I no longer, however, am compelled to break myself into pieces to fit in. Both my Chinese and Jewish-American heritages are central to my identity.
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Model Minority
Cal in Color
Seared into my memory is the first time I fought with my friends. We were in ninth-grade world history when my friend offhandedly joked, “Yeah, but Rona’s Asian and has a big house, so she wouldn’t get what we’re going through.” “Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
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