The Gift of: The Cultural Milieu of a 1.5 Generation Immigrant to Canada

Multiple cultural realities can take a toll on one’s sense of self and cultural belonging.

Where ARE you FROM?

“What’s your race? Or, I mean… What’s your nationality or ummm… ethnicity? Or is it culture now? Or heritage? You know what I mean….WHERE ARE YOU FROM?” 

Cue “What Kind of Asian Are You?” YouTube video…

Curious? Okay, here it is:

Origins: Born in Hong Kong under British ruling, but ethnically Chinese.

Early Chapter: Raised in Canada with Hong Kong, Japanese, and American pop cultural influences. 

Culture: Hong Kong-born, Chinese Canadian.

Current Chapter: Let’s complicate it even more … I’m now permanently in the American South in a suburb that is heavily populated by Korean Americans AND married to a white American who grew up in the Midwest.

(I’m not sure if that was a proper sentence, but hey, English wasn’t my first language…so…🤷🏻‍♀️)

Let’s face it, the concept of culture has broadened. With the rise of globalization and the ability to migrate, there aren’t neat cultural boxes for you to put people in anymore. There can be so many cultural identities and experiences in one person.  

Growing up, I struggled with that contention between my Chinese cultural heritage and North American culture. The lunches I brought to elementary class smelled different from bologna sandwiches and Lunchables; the languages I spoke at home and school were different; the view of education, work ethics and play were different. So, my daytime was filled with majority culture at school. The evenings and weekends were filled with Chinese culture at home. I even attended Chinese school and a Chinese church on the weekends. At school, I was teased because of my Chinese ethnicity and culture. At home, I was teased that my Cantonese was eroding and that I was not working hard enough to achieve more (I really disliked Kumon).

There just wasn’t a neat, safe box to fit into.

Honestly, it is hard to believe that any young, new immigrant doesn’t automatically develop serious mental disorders from the multiple cultural realities.

One way to cope was to “switch sides”. In my pre-teen years, I remember how I looked down on new Chinese immigrants whose English were not as strong and whose clothes were not baby tees, bodysuits or oversized Club Monaco sweatshirts. (the ‘90s fashion has returned in case you didn’t notice).

We called them “F.O.B.s” – Fresh Off the Boat. I minimized my Chinese heritage and subsequently, my own self. My arrogance and disdain grew. But, one day, I was brought down to humility (and humiliation). My supposed “cool friends” ran away from me one recess; I was left on my own, and I was devastated. Through that rather traumatic experience, though, I befriended another group of friends. They were Chinese-Canadian girls who, like me, grew up (or even born) in Canada, but still maintained a lot of their Chinese roots and cultural influences. This was where I felt most comfortable. This was where I belonged. We were able to relate on our parents’ expectations of us, on the emergence of bubble tea, and on HK pop music and dramas.

Somewhere in there, my spirit developed resilience and much of the dissonance was somehow reconciled – at least to a functional way of living. A pivotal experience was returning to Hong Kong when I was 13. That trip helped solidify my appreciation for my Hong Kong-Chinese culture (and surrounding Asian influences). If we weren’t shopping at street markets or eating curry fish balls, we binged on a LOT of Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball anime. Something about BEING in that culture helped me understand it to a level that was BEYOND my direct experience with my parents or uncles and aunties. I was able to objectively observe and soak in what being a Hong Konger was like. I began to appreciate aspects of the Hong Kong culture - understanding that these were the roots that formed my parents’ values and perspectives, and in turn, my own sense of self. While I knew I didn’t fully belong in Hong Kong, there were elements that were foundational to who I was becoming.

Now that I’m 37 years old, instead of fighting or resisting any one culture, I have learned (and still learning) to embrace them all. I am blessed to be able to accept, appreciate and celebrate the cultural mix. I love that I speak English AND Cantonese. I love that I have the language and appearance to access Europe AND Asia fairly comfortably. I love the fast-paced buzz and efficiency of Asia AND the spacious residential and public areas of North America. I love the focus on family and respect to elders in the Eastern cultures AND the independence and critical thinking of Western cultures.

It’s AND - not “choose one OR the other”.

I have come to celebrate the distinctions of each – like appreciating coffee for their tasting notes or the myriad possibilities of fragrance (top notes, heart notes, base notes). While, at first, cultural identities may seem to compete; the celebration of their complexities can be a beautiful and profound way of living. A person’s “culture” can include many places, societies, customs, and expectations.

I, for one, am very thankful for my cultural milieu.

P.S. I recognize that every Asian North American will have their OWN lived experiences and their level of “acceptance” of their own heritage and cultural influences will differ greatly. It grieves my heart to learn that some of my friends have had Hong Kong-Chinese-Canadians tell them that if they’re not from Hong Kong or Taiwan, that they are “2nd or 3rd class” in the immigrant hierarchy. That’s a whole new level of compounding pain. So, while I am at a place to embrace and celebrate my cultural identity, it should not force others to feel like they need to be at the same place in their journeys. The journeys are just different - period. And, they’re all worth being heard.