Considering the environment I found myself in for the majority of my life, I could easily have become a Twinkie or a lemon. However, I consider myself a fortune cookie, yellow on the outside and both yellow and white on the inside. At the fork of the road, Chinese-Americans often ask: should I become American, or should I exert my native Chinese? I, too, have long grappled with this dilemma personally. My decision is to take neither road and pave my own more challenging but less-questioned third road. I am going to be both, being as American as I am Chinese, and vice versa. I am Chinese-American manifest in my day-to-day living: from the variety of food I eat to the the way I communicate and think, express and repress emotion, in all, the type of life I choose to lead.
I am proud to be Chinese and am yellow in all that is applicable to my situation. I was born in China and lived there for a solid 7 years. I am over-achieving, received high grades and near perfect scores on my SATs, attend a prestigious university, behave modestly, and enjoy everything in moderation. My lemon inner self can be exemplified in my loyal patriotism toward my home country. I love Chinese food! I love Chinese music! I love China. I feel a sense of pride in being Chinese, a member of one of the most historically and culturally rich world superpowers. China's journey, for better or worse, is my journey. Watching the 2008 Beijing Olympics and seeing China assert itself so adamantly to the world reinforces my pride. Witnessing China triumphing on a global stage in their home stadium, in a remarkable ceremony that bridges the modern with a flair for the ancient glorifies China's story and my own.
However, in returning to China last summer, I experienced another awakening. The Chinese saw me as a foreigner in my language deficiencies and self-unaware "American behavior." Local Chinese people would try to talk to me in English. They would ask me about the Backstreet Boys, George Bush, Boston clam chowder. They asked me about America, in what was in their opinion, my "home." Upon personal reflection, I realized that the native Chinese acquaintances were not flawed in their judgement. I cannot be fully Chinese no matter how hard I try. I only lived in China briefly and spent the majority of my maturing years in America. I attended a predominately white high school and found myself poring over Plato and Shakespeare in the early waking hours. Given the liberality and freedom I had in steering my own life, I decided to lean toward the humanities and fell in love with writing and the arts. Instead of entering science fairs, I entered spelling bees. Instead of directing the Math Olympiad team, I wrote for the Boston Herald and oversaw my high school newspaper. I am a "fuzzy." Consequently, I felt some distance, some fine line drawn between myself and the more "stereotypical" Chinese in China: math/science geniuses who spoke in broken English.
The way I assert myself is distinctly American. The inflections in my daily speech, my subtle eye movements, food preferences, and other miniscule details of my American lifestyle may take years to alter. However, I will forever be Chinese at heart. I will not lose my pride, or deny my past manifest phenotypically in my black hair and round face and slanted eyes. I cherish my traditional family upbringing, my culture. I do not want to integrate so much into American society that my Asian values are hardly apparent. All in all, being a fortune cookie is indeed a blessing. It allows me to choose between neither, while finding value in embracing both. I may not be able to fully become American or Chinese, but I am gaining greater appreciation for both cultures as I nourish and define my Chinese-American heritage. Outside, I am well shaped and clearly defined. Inside, I am full of wonderful surprises.
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