Table of contents
- linden
- central
- noyes
- foster
- davis
- howard
- waiting on the platform
- granville
- cermak-chinatown
- swiping out
linden
wo jiao li ye tong i am li yetong
in this country i don’t know how to pronounce my name correctly
so i let you do it
that way i can’t be wrong
because you are the master of this language i can only grasp the edges of
pronunciation is everything
it doesn’t matter how many words or vocabulary you can memorize
it doesn’t matter that you know how to spell re-stau-rant
and know your you’re’s from your’s and it’s from its from its’ and they’re’s from theirs
they only listen
and wait to hear your accent
so they can say a-ha! and catch you at it
you’re not american you’re a foreigner.
they forget
but i know
how my parents spent years learning english
but i can see they will never fit in because they can’t roll their tongues the right way
in fourth grade i am embarrassed of bringing my parents to class
because they don’t talk right, they forget to conjugate their verbs
in Chinese there is no difference between past present future verbs
there is no difference between i have eaten i am eating i will be eating
i keep my head down when my mother tries to introduce herself and
the american mothers don’t understand what she is saying
can you say that again? i didn’t quite catch that
sorry my mother apologizes sorry
i want to hide in shame
i wish she didn’t apologize, she has nothing to apologize for
yet i also wish she never opened her mouth in the first place
i forget that she has a PhD in science and understands far more science than they do
in that moment, all i can remember
is how she tries to fit in for me
and how her accent gives her away.
da she tou [i]
that’s what my father says to me in fifth grade
i have refused to speak chinese in the house for a year now
i can understand everything still
but when i open my mouth, my words come out all jumbled
english grammar, that they have hammered into my head
is opposite of chinese grammar
and i have forgotten which order to place the words in
so when i try to speak
it doesn’t come out right
da she tou, my father sneers in contempt
big tongue
i blush in shame
i want to retort that i don’t have an american accent
that i can still speak my native tongue like a real chinese
not like all those abc’s, those american born chinese
who are sent to chinese school but somehow come out more american than chinese
i want to protest
but the truth is
i have learned how to roll my tongues the proper way now
and i can’t unlearn it anymore.
doors closing
central
i live in two worlds
one at school and one at home
each a secret to the other
shhh says the moon, her breath a cold whisper
she never sees the sun
his shining rays radiating down to warm the earth
they are yin and yang
two sides of the same coin
two sides of my same life
but i can never seem to consolidate
these two parts of myself
like yin and yang seems to melt into each other.
because i didn’t get into any of the magnet schools
my parents move us into the evanston suburbs
i can still remember walking out of the testing room
my name not announced
the shame marking every pore of my body
oozing red shame
i cannot meet my mother’s eyes.
before kindergarten
i must take an entrance exam for a public school
to help your child be in the setting best suited for her
is what they tell my mother
what they really mean is
i see your face and i hear your accent
do we need to put your child in e. s. l.? [ii]
it is pouring the day i am to take the entrance exam
before i walk into the classroom
my mother tells me to dumb down, to purposely make some mistakes
my father has already started making me memorize the multiplication tables
i can go all the way to jiu jiu ba shi yi [iii]
i get everything right except for trapezoid
i think that’s the hardest one to identify
i know the word for it but i purposely get it wrong
i even get parallelogram; the teacher is ecstatic
i am not put into e. s. l.
pledge of allegiance
we are told to recite it every morning, nine o’clock sharp
we all must stand up straight, put our right hand over our heart
for the first few months i do it without question
teacher says, i do
to question would be to challenge authority [iv]
then one day i wonder
what am i pledging allegiance to?
i’ve recited the words so many times
they flow out of me like second nature
i finally dare to ask my teacher one day
curiosity gets the best of me
to the united states of america, of course, she says
i am confused
but i am not a u.s.a. citizen
oh?
i’m a p.r.c. [v] citizen
oh
do i still have to recite the pledge of allegiance every morning?
well, she ponders for a moment
i suppose not
and just like that
i am released from reciting the pledge of allegiance.
noyes
there are always a load of people
waiting to get on here
this is one of my favorite stops on the intercampus shuttle
i get to see tired students hauling heavy backpacks
each clutching the straps tightly to their body
i wonder what is in there that’s so important to them
what kind of fascinating knowledge i might unearth from those papers
i wonder when i will become one of them
i can’t wait
to be able to understand all the science diagrams
my mother has plastered across our walls at home
i want to be a part of her world
and there she is, exiting one of the three double doors
i marvel at the monstrous structure before me
the technological institute in all her glorious magnificence
i want access into there too.
child
you won’t know what this place will come to mean to you
freshman year of college
tech is shrouded in mystery no more
mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday
nine a.m. sharp i show up for class
fridays at one p.m. i show up for lab
spend four hours in a stuffy room wearing ill-fitting lab coats
i get to know tech like the back of my hand
all of its turns and nooks and hallways that look the same
they say this is the hardest year-long sequence at this school
rumor is, organic chemistry will be the bane of your life
not me, i tell myself
this will be your domain
but slowly over the months i am worn down too
this magnificent place full of knowledge begins to bury me;
in this monolithic mausoleum
i learn to speak the language of the periodic table
but forget how to speak the language of humans.
foster
here, now.
how many times have i walked down this street?
too many to count.
this is my happy place
this apartment on the second floor above a barber shop
with slanted floors and creaky doors
and four lovely human beings
one from colorado one from nebraska one from texas one from d.c.
and me, from here
who is also from half a world away.
one day fall quarter
i am feeling so sick that it takes me fifty minutes
to make it back from tech when it should only take fifteen, max
the rain comes in a downpour drenching me entirely
i have never been this miserable and cold
all the way back i am asking myself what am i doing with my life
to be in this sorry state
i should be happy, i am doing well in my classes, i show up to work on time
i do everything i should and yet
here i am
each breath laboring, each step dragging and so so heavy
i am in diabetes ketoacidosis
i have no one i can tell
i don’t know if i can make it home.
at the forty minute mark
i have never been so happy
to see my home looming just beyond the c.t.a. station.
funny how i found my people here
when i never thought i’d end up staying
east coast was my destination
harvard was my early application
northwestern was always only my safety
it felt too comfortable, was too close to home
and i wanted to fly, find somewhere new to call my place
somewhere other than here
where i have been stuck all my life
it was between me and her, a harvard legacy
maybe i shouldn’t have been so surprised
when i got the deferral and she got the acceptance
she was excellent of course in her own right
yet it felt like a slap to my face
my face, a tribute to the heritage i cannot hide
i wondered then if i should have changed my name
if i should have made myself seem less chinese and more american
i have never cried so hard
not so much for the deferral but for the breaking of my dreams
i had imagined a thousand times
walking across harvard campus
like quentin compson in the sound and the fury
the first english novel that made me fall in love with the language
crack! i shudder it’s a visceral response
as i lay watching the tableau of my dreams
shattering before my very eyes
cracking into a thousand thousand pieces
i’m not sure i believe in chasing dreams anymore.
people tell me i’m smart but i know better
i’m just a hard worker
when other children were outside playing ball and riding bikes
i was inside studying math and memorizing passages
i think about violin; how many hours did i put in?
how many hours did they put in?
they only see the few minutes up on stage
the piece sharpened to utter perfection
they don’t see the hours where i slaved away in dark corners of my kitchen
am i living a good life
i don’t really know
i have everything i could possibly want
yet i can’t sleep at night and some days i can’t eat i’m so nauseous
this is my life.
they say you’ll feel imposter syndrome here
i’ve only felt it once
english class sophomore year winter quarter
out of the blue my professor wants us to identify grammar clauses
i lower my eyes on screen i can feel my palms getting clammy
i have never been good at grammar
never been and probably never will be
please please don’t pick me
i can feel my heartbeat racing
but of course she calls on me, maybe she could sense my fear
she asks me to identify x, y, z but i’m so nervous that i –
i can’t do it
i don’t even know what x, y, z means
i can only stare numbly at the screen
hoping she will let me off easy if she sees i really am struggling
but no such luck she keeps pushing me
well?
anytime soon now
are you still with us?
i swallow my mouth is so dry my voice cracks when i speak
is it… this?
no she snaps try again
this?
no.
i can sense her getting frustrated but i am too
suddenly i am frantic to get this right
to prove that i too can be an english major
even though english is my second language
this one!
no.
this is not a guessing game she snaps
i’ve reached the end of her patience, she turns to someone else
the class is small to begin with, only six students total
everyone has averted their eyes uncomfortably on screen
i sit there muted
i sit there dumb
i sit there ashamed
i can feel hot tears prickling the back of my eyes
they pour out in a whoosh! flooding down my cheeks
i never learned grammar properly i want to protest
i learned english by matching words to gestures
and trying it out to see if i’d get the right response
i never even learned what grammar is until much later
grammar seems to come so easily to everyone else in my class
i wonder if it would too if i were a native speaker
i’m trying i’m trying i’m trying my best
is that not enough?
i turn my face to the side crying a silent river
i’m not allowed to turn off my camera or i get no participation for the day
i hope nobody is looking at me on screen
i wish i could hide away
hide this hideous face that knows no grammar.
davis
one person amongst so many
she lives on in my memory
this is the first time i ever saw my mother cry.
i am six years old
and this is the first time
my mother takes me to meet her english teacher.
be respectful she reminds me all the way there
i think she’s nagging now but i just nod along
i wonder what kind of person can be my mother’s teacher.
we get off at davis
and walk in beneath a deep green canopy
through golden gilded revolving doors
then up up up an elevator
she opens the door, all smiles and welcoming
a head of white hair, yet with a bounce in her step
she offers me milk and cookies, home-made she says
i like her immediately
while my mother takes her lesson, she gifts me a book
the cover is glossy and rich with the new ink smell
while i read, my mother practices her pronunciation
trying to get rid of her chinese accent that haunts every syllable
my mother thanks her before we leave
i give her a little bow and everyone laughs
see you next week rings in the air.
there is no next week.
my mother arrives next week only to find out
her english teacher has passed away
she comes home very late that night
head down, eyes red
wordlessly
she shuts herself in our only bedroom
but i can still hear her crying through the walls
baba i ask
is mama okay
he guides me away from the room
she will be okay he tells me
but even he is somber.
the next day i take my book to my mother
and show her how pristine i have kept it
she bursts into tears then and hugs me close
oh baby
you must keep her gift forever.
to this day
the book remains on my bookshelf
carefully wrapped in a dark green paper.
truly
what are we
but passengers in each other’s trains
you get on at one stop
but everyone always has to get off somewhere
没有人能陪伴你走完这一生. [vi]
howard
this is howard. doors open on the left at howard. all passengers must
transfer to red and yellow lines at howard.
this is the station marking
the city-defined boundary
between Chicago and not Chicago.
are you a city person?
think before you answer.
this could change everything for you.
this is a line we can see
a geographical separation.
yet what is also drawn but unseen
are the invisible boundaries dividing
safe and not safe
mostly white and not mostly white.
as i wait for the red line, three minutes they say
i stand on the platform
and overlook howard street
into the balconies of unknown strangers’ homes
at the storefronts of unknown strangers’ shops
one side is chicago
the other side is not chicago
i wonder if anybody ever asks
which side of howard street you’re from
and if that changes anything about you for them.
are you a city person?
have you changed your answer?
i am five and my teacher is concerned
about certain things that happens at home
that they don’t seem to understand here at school.
she doesn’t understand why
i don’t have free time or get to play outside
why i stay home all day memorizing old chinese poems
and learning the multiplication table
and why i must do it well or there may be a ruler.
ni bu neng zai zhe me shuo le [vii] my mother scolds
ming bai ma? [viii]
i understand but i don’t understand
all i’ve learned
is that there are certain things that happen at home
that i cannot mention in school.
perhaps it’s better if i don’t say anything at all
shao shuo yi ju hua, shao re yi xie ma fan [ix]
i keep my head down
watch and learn
i become a copycat with each thought i silence
i become
mute
muted.
this is how i come to stand in silence
in the liminal space
between two cultures that mix but don’t match
waiting on the platform
in limbo
green card not a citizen
someone once asked me why i didn’t want to relinquish my chinese citizenship
look! so many more benefits! so much more access with an american citizenship
access
just to be able to travel to more places abroad
you mean i should relinquish the nation i pride in, that i identify with?
it seems absurd
i am chinese i say
yes, but access, they say
no, i say
firmly this time
my family my heritage my origin
i am chinese not american
even though i am better at english now than my native tongue
even though they sent me to e.s.l. in second grade at my new school
when i could speak fluent english
even though they thought i needed a translator at my new school in fifth grade
just because i looked chinese
i am not surface level chinese
i am deep down chinese
gu zi li wo dou shi zhong guo ren [x]
so why am i still so afraid to claim that part of me?
you may have to change citizenship someday
for work
because american government doesn’t trust chinese people
my mother warns me, because i want to go into the medical field
they may not let you do research you want
in case you steal their secrets
and bring it back to china.
other people warn me about my chineseness too
be proud of it but don’t flaunt it
i don’t know how to do that
how can i simultaneously be proud yet ashamed
of my own lineage?
granville
my first home here, not even a one bedroom apartment
a studio, second floor window overlooking a deserted parking lot
the best my mother could do for us.
on good weather days when i behaved
my parents would take me to the lake and play on the beach
if i got sand on my clothes i would get scolded
and i never got ice cream when the ice cream truck drove by
i could only stare at the other kids licking up the cold sweetness
sugar melting in their mouths that i could only dream of
mmm but i knew we couldn’t afford it then
so i looked away and made my sandcastle bigger, stronger
in hopes that one day i could make it here
and give my parents a better life.
we saved up penny by penny back then
they couldn’t leave me home alone at three and a half years old
so i would come with them on ten mile walks, one way, for groceries
seems absurd now but that was life back then
the only way they could make it work
i will never forget how my mother’s hands were laced red
blistering tomato-red rawness
with lines from holding those heavy plastic bags
all the way home.
people around me now care about organic foods and veganism
they go to whole foods where fruits are fresh and overpriced
shiny and polished and beautifully arranged
you do you, i will never judge
i might even buy myself a pretty apple once in a while
but i cannot forget my mother’s hands
nimble hands that can expertly perform endoscopy
and run astoundingly difficult scientific experiments
but are reduced to tender raw redness
from the toils of everyday life.
education is everything
the only path forward in life
my mother tells me at five that i must do well on the s. a. t. [xi]
i don’t dare to ask her what the s. a. t. is
i just nod because there is no other choice for me
i have to do well
my parents gave up their lives so i could have a better one
so who am i to complain
what is there even to complain about?
so much.
practice is perfect
my mother’s favorite english phrase, when i don’t want to study anymore
when i’ve already practiced violin for an hour and my father demands an hour more
bu dui! cong lian! [xii] he shouts at me
for four hours i stand in the doorway of the kitchen while he does dishes
and i practice the A minor scale until it flows under my fingers
each note ringing perfectly in tune and on beat with the metronome set at 60
it is a torturous process
i am never enough
i am empty of tears and my fingertips are blistering when i go to sleep that night
this is my life.
thwack!
i am four years old and i have failed
to memorize the poem my mother has instructed me to
within the twenty minute time limit
i want to go to the beach so badly today
the skies are blue and free of clouds
all i can do is stare outside the window, is that so wrong?
i don’t want to sit inside anymore memorizing strange characters
that i can speak but do not comprehend the meanings of
so i dawdle and dawdle
but my mother’s patience has limits
later when i’m older my father is the one who lands the blows
drawing blood on my face when i am defiant against his wishes
but today it is my mother
i have never seen her this furious, her face red and eyes bulging
i cower back, i don’t understand what i’ve done that is so wrong
dui bu qi [xiii] i whimper but already i can tell it’s too late
ba ta zhuan guo lai, an zhu [xiv], she instructs my father
i squirm for all my might, crying and sobbing and flailing but i am no match
she takes up a ruler
from the corner of my eyes i can see the harsh unyielding lines around her mouth
i can see the determination in her eyes to school me
to make me understand the sacrifices she’s made to bring me here
and my ungratefulness for not learning, for not being more
i have to make it here, there is no other option
i must reach perfection, i must be the best – bi xu shi zui hao, bi xu shi di yi [xv]
and because i wasn’t, this is my punishment:
down comes the ruler
thwack! thwack! thwack!
never before did i imagine such a guileless tool i once used to line my drawings
could bring about so much blinding pain
my father holds me down firmly, standing to the side and counting,
yi er san si wu liu qi ba [xvi]
i am howling
it hurts so bad
i’m sorry mama
i’m sorry
i know better now
please stop
it hurts
it really
really
really
hurts.
she runs out of steam at thwack thirty-four.
she holds me in her arms and cries
promising she will never lay a hand on me again
promising she will never leave me again
like she did when i was two
to be a research assistant halfway across the world.
you and her both will come to know
that she can’t keep that promise
she leaves me again when i am eleven.
i am twenty-one now
her green card expired last year
she will never come back here to live with me again.
cermak-chinatown
the first time i see so many people like me
it feels revolutionary, refreshing in a way i never imagined it could be
people! like! me!
i feel a sense of akinness to them even though i know no one here
i am giddy
my father doesn’t understand why
i want to linger at the square and look at all the people around me
look at how they move through the world
how they do not hesitate in a community of people like them
how they do not have to watch the faces of white people like i have to
kuai dian! [xvii] he snaps irritably
he doesn’t understand what i find so fascinating
he grew up amongst people like him
by the time he came here, he was too chinese to truly acclimate
we still do everything the chinese way at home
even though it has been years and years since coming here
本性难移 [xviii] they say in a chinese proverb
indeed his world has largely remained intact
in the bubble of our little apartment home
but this is all so new for me
i never see so many faces like mine in such high frequency
i wonder what it must be like to grow up here
my father tugs on my arm, hard
we walk pass old men who spit on the side of the street
i’m not sure i would want to live here
but i do wonder.
we walk into stores that smell like old plastic and rotten meat
my father finds it normal and strides straight into the aisles
i wrinkle my nose and breathe through my mouth
he can tell the authentic vinegar brands from the off-brand products
only buy this one never that one he tells me
i nod even though i know i will not remember
they all look the same to me
we pass restaurants that claim to be the best most authentic one around
delicious smells of roasted duck and noodle soup wafts from one door
while another boasts of freshly steamed buns right off the stove
my father shakes his finger at one storefront
that one does not make authentic taste he tells me
never eat there or you waste your money
i nod even though to me
they all taste good.
as we make our way down china-town street
i begin to feel less and less chinese
i cannot seem to distinguish the authentic from the not authentic
i wonder if they can tell that i’m not from around here
that i’m not authentically chinese
but then again they are not either
we are all immigrants to a country that is not our own.
swiping out
how many times can someone take the train back and forth?
they never charge you for transferring between lines
you swipe in once and you can ride until you swipe out
loop-ity loop loop
i wonder if anyone has ever spent the whole day on the c.t.a
people watching
sitting
getting on and off
everyone i see is always hustling somewhere
head down, headphones in
blocking out the world
i wonder if anyone really looks at anyone now
remembers to smile at a stranger once in a while
now i bid farewell
to all the passengers still on the train
thank you for accompanying me on this stretch of my journey
for bearing witness to these chapters of my life in memory
i wonder if you wonder about me
like i wonder about you
you, who are looking out the window gazing at the trees
what are you thinking? are you remembering a past time too?
and you, lugging that big bag with you all this way
are you thinking about going home at the end of a long day
so you can fall asleep wrapped in your blankets, head soft on your pillow?
i’ve told you my stories, my memories entrenched with each stop
now it’s your turn
to join the cacophony of voices, each passenger singing their own part
in the symphony of the train.
Endnotes
[i] This translates to “big tongue.”
[ii] ESL stands for English as a Second Language.
[iii] This translates to “nine nine eighty-one” – in other words, 9×9=81.
[iv] In Chinese culture, one of the most important values to uphold is filial piety – and that includes never questioning authority, especially that of one’s parents and teachers.
[v] P.R.C. stands for People’s Republic of China
[vi] This translates to, “Nobody can accompany you throughout your entire life.”
[vii] This translates to, “You can’t say that again.”
[viii] This translates to, “Understand?”
[ix] This loosely translates to, “The less you say, the less trouble you invite.”
[x] This translates to, “In my bones I am Chinese.”
[xi] S. A. T. stands for Scholastic Assessment Test.
[xii] This translates to “Wrong! Practice again!”
[xiii] This translates to “I’m sorry.”
[xiv] This translates to “turn her over and hold her down.”
[xv] This translates to, “You must be the best, you must be number one!”
[xvi] This translates to, “One two three four five six seven eight.”
[xvii] This translates to, “Faster!” – as in, move faster.
[xviii] This translates to, “One’s inherent nature is difficult to change.”
