The
Melissa Lin, Sophomore
One day not too long ago, while walking toward the
bus stop, a man on a bicycle stopped me. One of the first
things he said to me was, “Do you speak English?”
Now I was bom in Iowa, moved around a bit, then
ended up here, in North Carolina. Bom and raised (except
for a year or so in Taiwan) in America, I grew up to think of
myself as an American. I watched “Sesame Street,” “Mister
Roger’s Neighborhood,” ate Frosted Flakes and hamburgers,
wore blue jeans and windbreak-
ers... And yet, all throughout my
life. I’ve been questioned on
where I come from, and if I speak
English.
In elementary school, I
made friends with all types of
people, and found it to be quite an
ordinary experience. Except for
those few comments made by that
one troublemaker in the class,
who made it a point to murmur a
“ching chong chang” when I was
near. At the time, I didn’t under
stand what these comments
meant, and I’m sure the little boy
didn’t either. However, the fact
that I remember those incidents
means that I must have been in
some way, affected by them.
Growing up, I didn’t have any
more Asian friends than non-
Asian friends, and like any child,
did not understand what race had
to do with anything.
Unfortunately, leaving adoles
cence also means leaving innocence, and I began to realize
that being Asian was an aspect that made me different from
others.
In trying to redefine the Asian heritage that I had
viewed mainly through my parents, I became interested in
learning about my origins. As many fellow Asian friends, I
sought to learn Chinese(which was actually the first language
I learned to speak, until it was substituted by a more useful
one in this country, English). Even so, I had difficulty learn
ing the “foreign language.” Why? Because it was just that.
Foreign. Though my parents spoke mandarin to me at home
sometimes, I still had trouble learning the language beyond
EW U
Lela Lee is well known for her comical
depictions of the “angry little asian girl. ”
Visit her (and friends 1) at
http://www. angry littleasiangirl. com!
what I already knew. Maybe the only reason I knew what I did
know was because, at that point, it had come inherently natu
ral to me. Beyond that, English was my natural language. And
so I began to realize that the frustrations that I experienced in
identity had a lot to do with the issue of double-consciousness.
In essence, being a part of both Asian and American cultures,
but belonging completely to neither.
This summer, I went back to Taiwan for the first time
-in some ten years. It was an interesting
^ experience, where for the first time, I
was really aware of the Taiwanese cul
ture. The night markets and the
bustling shopping centers in Taipei
made me feel at home, for some rea
son. I still remember living there for
the short while that I did, drinking
freshly-delivered chocolate milk every
morning, heated in up my grandpar
ents’ ancient microwave. I loved eating
yotiao and saobing, commonly sold on
the street or in small side shops.
During this most recent trip to Taiwan,
I became a fan of zhengzhunaichd, or
what is becoming popularly imported
to North America’s trendy scene as
“bubble tea.” And even when I was
wandering around downtown one
night, I felt completely at home.
Though my Mandarin skills are defi
nitely not up to par, I still felt at home
somehow.
However, in reality, I knew that I
really didn’t belong there. I could
imagine Taiwan as my parents’ home,
but not mine; I had hardly lived there, and was coming back as
a mere visitor. I realized I could only relate to Asia insofar as
an aspect of my ethnicity was concerned. As a first-generation
Chinese-American, I’ve come to realize that the situation is
new territory. Cultural identity is questioned, and in such an
important stage in life as growing into adulthood, getting to
understand oneself is essential. At this point, the Asian-
American experience can at best be to live in both spheres,
continuously adapting, so that we may create a niche for our
selves somewhere in the middle.
One day not too long ago, while walking toward the