混血

I thought returning to China as an "adult" and learning the language would help reaffirm my Asian identity, but the truth is, I’m feeling less Chinese than when I arrived eight weeks ago. In China, there is a name for people like me. It’s “混血” ，which means “of mixed blood.” This label, and looking like a 外国人 (or at least appearing racially ambiguous), comes with certain privileges. I don’t live under the same expectations that some of my Chinese-American peers do. When I speak, for example, no locals expect it to be in perfect Chinese. In fact, saying a few basic sentences is rewarded with the highest praise. My mistakes are more easily forgiven, there is no pressure to know social customs before being told, and when I express my Western thoughts it is not as shocking. Being “混血” gives me the freedom to familiarize myself with my heritage and culture without the expectation that it should already be known to me.

But, everything has a flip side. Not looking like a typical Chinese person means that in conversations, people (including my own friends and family members) will ask those next to me questions about me instead of asking me directly, despite me telling them I understand what they’re saying. It means people assume I have no knowledge whatsoever of Chinese culture. 混血 are fetishized -- my skin tone and nose are especially admired -- but being accepted as 华裔, a Chinese descendant, is a long way off. I can’t shake the feeling that I have a lot more to prove. Because my mother, who was raised in Shanghai, was the more dominant figure in my childhood in terms of parenting, in the U.S. I feel more Chinese than I do American in ways that aren’t apparent to the eye. I feel it in my attitudes towards authority figures, through knowing that “have you eaten” is a sign of affection, through the way I value education. I feel in through my memories of Sunday school, the collection of slippers in my house, the red envelopes and mooncakes, the rice cooker on my living room floor. Through history, through family, through my mother, through little things, I feel it. Navigating the disconnect between the way I am perceived and the way I perceive myself is an ongoing process; as always, if you have thoughts to share, I'd love to hear them!

With love,

Sofia