At my high school, curious teachers and classmates sometimes ask me, “What language do you speak at home? English or Mandarin?”
I tell them I speak both.
Occasionally, I find myself speaking in ‘Chinglish’ without realizing it. This is, of course, the mixture of English and Chinese. And it slips out more often than I’d like.
Once I told someone to “close the music” instead of “turn off the music.” So even though the words are English, the grammar is Chinese. With no place in the outside world, and barely any in the home, ‘Chinglish’ is the domain of culturally confused teenagers like me.
To me, the more widespread use of ‘Chinglish’ reflects the increasingly diverse society we now live in. Fifteen years ago, at the same time my parents were beginning to learn English, my Chinese-Canadian math teacher was forbidden by her mother to speak Cantonese.
“If you do that, you won’t be able to improve your English,” her mother warned.
Today things are different. Talking to my classmates, I find that most of them are bilingual and are proud of their cultural roots.
“It’s not a matter of either/or for us anymore,” says Mia, a Greek-Canadian classmate. “We can embrace all of our heritage.”
That’s the way I feel too.
But it hasn’t always been this easy for me. In elementary school, I discovered that the word “banana” isn’t only used to describe a mushy yellow fruit; it was also a pejorative term used for Asians that act “too white.” Most often, it was said as a joke – but not always.
Depending on the tone of voice, and who was saying it, the real message could be: “You’re not Asian enough, so you’re not one of us.”
The funny thing is that new immigrants were often referred to, in sneering voices, as “too Asian” – and once again, the message was: “You’re not one of us.”
Mixing language and culture. Photo by Megan Eaves, Flickr.
I tried to steer clear of both of these labels. I did well in English class during the day and went to Chinese class at night. I watched Twilight and The Hunger Games with my friends, and read Dream of the Red Chamber – one of China’s great classical novels – with my mother.
The way I looked at it, I had the best of both worlds. What could be better?
I didn’t figure out until recently that the answer is to enjoy and appreciate my two cultures simultaneously, not separately.
Before, whenever my Chinese cousins asked me to explain a culturally specific joke on an American TV series, I’d shrug it off.
“It’s just American culture,” I said, “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Maybe we would if you’d bother to explain it,” they would mutter under their breath.
And they were right. By separating the two parts of my culture, I was missing out on an opportunity to understand and appreciate them better. Cultural differences do not only consist of differences in language or dress, they manifest themselves in fundamental ways of thinking and living. Until I thought about how Canada and China were different, I was unable to grasp the concept of a significant cultural divide. And as a result, I was ignorant of the fact that fundamentally we are all the same.
Years ago, when Titanic was in theaters around the world, moviegoers from different countries laughed at different parts of the movie. But everyone cried at the same part –
when the ship sank and Jack sacrificed himself to save Rose.
I realize that I still have a long way to go before I can truly understand either Canadian or Chinese culture in a profound way. But by realizing that all cultures are intertwined, not separate, I think I’ve taken a step in that direction.
When I was in grade five, my mother decided to take me to a Caribbean festival here in Vancouver. Despite my curiosity, I was also filled with uncertainty; I had never been to a cultural festival that wasn’t Chinese. Having always been self-conscious, I wondered if we would be the only Asians there, or if we would look out of place.
My fears couldn’t have been farther from the truth. At the festival, there were people from all cultures and walks of life who had come together for one purpose: to celebrate the rich culture of the Caribbean. By the time we left, I was stuffed with jerk chicken and I couldn’t have been any happier.
Vancouver is a culturally diverse city, and that’s why I’m proud to be a Vancouverite. But if there is one thing that is more enriching and empowering than multiculturalism, it is interculturalism. That is, there must not only be the presence of different cultures, but dialogue and understanding among them.
It’s something to aspire to.
