I don't think about where I live anymore, or rarely compare it with China.
I am totally shocked when someone points out that I am Asian sometimes. Because
there are very few Asians living in this city, < 3%, no wonder it brings curiosity. But it doesn't match with my self image of being an American.
Yesterday one of my first grade students, a little girl that asks for hugging every morning , all of a sudden burst out, " you look like Chinese!" What? I was stunned for a second. We've been studying together for one month now, what a great discovery! Maybe I don't look into mirrors anymore. The only thing that never changes is my Asian facial features. Except that, the Chinese part of me has faded into the remote memories of my childhood, of the huge posters of lists of executions, or the listless street hawkers and vendors. Growing up in China at that time period, from 1980s to 1990s, there was nothing colorful or joyful to recall. I had no siblings, no friends, no summer camps, no fun time. I can feel the chill on my back whenever someone asks me whether I had anything to do with China or being some sort of Asian descent. The draconic crackdowns and strict social policing in the 80s stayed on my mind forever. Probably that's why it always brings pain to me when someone tries to make comparisons of China and the U.S. It doesn't make sense to get these things together, here and there, good or bad. I want to let the bygone be bygone and never bring it up again.
