Recently, my article entitled Are We Content to Let Our DNA Define Us was published on the blog Chinasmack.com. Chinasmack's Diaspora series is a look at the personal experiences and perspectives of overseas Chinese communities. You can read other articles in the series here.
A Chinese friend once responded harshly when asked, "Are you Japanese?" by a young child who had approached him on the street. His response struck me as strange. After all, my identity was always a topic of discussion. As a child of a Chinese-American father and Caucasian mother, I looked neither. I have thick dark hair, a long nose, large eyes, and slightly colored skin. In fact, I was more often mistaken for Hispanic or Native American rather than Asian or white. My identity was discussed among close friends, acquaintances, and even with strangers who I bumped into in a bar or with whom I had a brief encounter on the street.
Plus, I got it all the time. Meeting someone for the first time usually meant that he or she might give me that slightly elongated, curious gaze, which was followed by an awkward "I'm sorry..I can't tell, are you [insert misconceived identity here]?" Or, in contrast, when meeting someone Asian, my appearance wouldn't merit a second glance, but my last name would always surprise them. "Wait…. why do you have a Chinese last name?" they might ask. In time, I got used to it, like a high school graduate who puts up with questions like "What are you going to major in? What do you want to do when you graduate from college?" You know people are good intentioned and genuinely curious, but when you answer the same question to all your relatives, family friends, teachers and random acquaintances, you still answer out of courtesy, but each time you draw a deeper sigh as you prepare your now well-practiced response.
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