On the eve of my transition from "teenagedom" to "adulthood" you would think that after being around for 19 years, geez, I oughta know a thing or two about my identity... where I'm from and where I'm going. Huh, funny thing is, I think I'm facing identity issues. In my favorite Poli Sci class today, our guest speaker was the Honorable John Chiang of the State Board of Equalization. He's such an amazing speaker with great stories to tell. He told stories about his Chinese parents and their wishes for each child to grow up and become a doctor. Ironic that 3 out of the 4 children all majored in Poli Sci. He also told stories of discrimination when they first immigrated over and lived in a predominantly black community. How their apartment window was the target of rocks thrown by rowdy teenagers that lived nearby. How when all the other school kids had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he had rice with eel on it. How the bathrooms of his elementary school was such a terror for him, for fear of being the center of mockery among the big bullies that hung out in there. How his parents worked so hard to give them a better life…

Listening to these stories, I realized I am him! I went through the same time… the fear of going to the bathrooms cuz the girls would always pull open the door right when my pants would be around my ankles (darn those doors that never locked!), how my little Hawthorne apartment windows were always bombarded with eggs, how I was considered the strange Chinese girl with strange lunches each day. These memories… I’ve carried them with me forever, yet why is it that I needed somebody to retell these stories to me for me to remember them? I think whether intentionally or unintentionally, I have blocked out these horrible memories. I no longer physically SEE myself any different from other people. I think I’m normal… and I think sometimes I even consider myself “white” or “Mexican.”

If there was one thing I got out of class today, it’s to make a statement by being me and being proud of who I am. Though I may not be able to change society and the way we are subconsciously segregated because of different support groups, I can make something out of the life that I was given. That means, while being proud of my own culture, we need to also be aware of other cultures and celebrate those cultures. I can make a difference based on the actions I take, but more importantly, I need to recognize the effects that my actions have on others.

Dinner was at Fu Lin’s tonight (I really should be the poster-child for Fu Lin!). I learned that Elaine (the co-owner) is from Hong Kong and she also speaks Mandarin. We spoke for quite awhile and she confided in me that sometimes she doesn’t know why she came to the States. She left a life of luxury to scrub floors and serve a bunch of Berkeley students. Why, I asked. She answered, “For rights. You don’t get rights in Hong Kong… but life here is hard. I make very little.”

Growing up in the United States, I think I have taken for advantage the rights that we have, cuz I haven’t experienced it any other way. But maybe it’s time that I start using my privileges to uplift others. I can’t mask the fact that I’m Chinese, but I can exist and make a statement with my living.