Navigating Life in Australia as a First-Generation Asian Male

A few months ago, I was at a bar with a former colleague of mine where we chatted about various things — but particularly what had been happening in our lives the past few months. As someone who is a much older and wiser than I am, he gave me some words to ponder on. He told me that:

‘As we grow older, our list of responsibilities will only continue to get longer.’

With more responsibilities come more expectations. And with that, we inevitably end up being pulled at from all directions. We have to pay the bills, we have to save money, we have to help our aging parents, we have to spend time with friends, we have to attend certain events and parties, the list goes on and on. We are obligated to do all sorts of things that are not necessarily for ourselves but for others. With all these different responsibilities, it often becomes much easier to follow the path already paved. In this sense, it becomes easier for us to only do what makes the most logical sense. To follow our logos rather than our pathos, ethos or thumos.

In my case as a recent first generation Asian-Australian law graduate, it would be to become a corporate professional: to lead a life of stability and to eventually have a family, buy a home and have enough money saved up to support the next generation of Asian-Australians. To be a ‘yappie’. To do all of these things so that the next generation may one day have the opportunity to follow whatever path they desire.

In trying to live up to these responsibilities and expectations, living out the other aspects of my identity that do not mesh with these responsibilities and expectations can easily feel like a tall order. It becomes confusing as to how I am supposed to juggle these different aspects of my identity. The harsh reality is that, as Asian-Australians, we are often expected to prioritise one aspect of our identity over others. Wesley Yang’s oft-cited article ‘Paper Tigers’ captures one such perspective of this tension behind living as an Asian in a Western country:

‘You could say that I am, in the gently derisive parlance of Asian-Americans, a banana or a Twinkie (yellow on the outside, white on the inside). But while I don’t believe our roots necessarily define us, I do believe there are racially inflected assumptions wired into our neural circuitry that we use to sort through the sea of faces we confront. And although I am in most respects devoid of Asian characteristics, I do have an Asian face’ — Paper Tigers by Wesley Yang

It is a tension between our desire to belong to the people around us — which generally requires you to mold your identity in accordance with everyone else’s expectations — with our other desire to just be ourselves. This desire to meet expectations often conflicts with our desire to be an individual that is mentally, spiritually and emotionally fulfilled.

I know that for me, growing up as an Asian-Australian has meant that I have had to simultaneously meet the expectations of being an ‘Australian’ and as a child of Chinese immigrants. As an ‘Australian’, I am expected to integrate with white people and laugh along with them when they say things like ‘how can people possibly eat century eggs or chicken feet?’ — this is something I experienced first-hand while being in a professional work environment. As a child of Chinese immigrants, I am also expected to completely embrace the notion of filial piety and to prioritise family and stability above all else.

Yet I am not a full fledged ‘banana’. I also don’t fully subscribe to the traditional Chinese values that my parents were raised with. I played rugby growing up despite the disapproval of my parents. I listen to indie rock and folk music. I enjoy reading and writing. I am also not great at mathematics. As such, many aspects of my identity have been scrutinised by the White and Asian communities I reside in. From being given an eye-roll by a White person in the office when I told them I was terrible at mathematics, to being labelled as someone who has deserted their Asian roots because I dated a girl of Spanish ethnicity, and having assumptions made about my personal life because she is a non-Christian.

That is not to say, however, that I wish to detach myself from my identities of being an ‘Australian’ or child of Chinese immigrants. Rather, I am eternally grateful that I can speak Cantonese and that I have a connection with my Chinese heritage. I am eternally grateful that I can speak and write English and live in a multicultural society — even if there are various racial undertones that continue to exist today within both of my White and Asian communities.

I also cannot deny that I have benefited from the Asian Male ‘stereotype promise’ of being viewed as a respectful, hard worker who follows the rules. I appreciate the fact that I have used this to moreorless coast through life, using my own form of privilege to progress in life. Rather than only hone in on the negatives of the expectations that have been placed on me, I cannot deny that I have also benefited from them as well. It would be foolish then, to completely disregard my identity of being an Asian-Australian because that is what I am.

At the same time, it would be foolish of me to let this label of being Asian-Australian dictate everything else in my life. Beyond being a Asian-Australian, I am a son. I am a brother, friend, boyfriend, Christian among many other things. I am a writer — one that constantly oscillates between the belief that what I write possesses value, and the fear that my writing is not socially noteworthy enough to even be worth mentioning. And within all of these different aspects of my identity are further complexities and details that require more than a few words or sentences to be adequately described. As an Asian-Australian in 2018, I am often left confused as to whether a middle ground exists where all of these aspects of my identity can be reconciled. It also feels tiring because there are still so few Asian creatives in Australia while there are role models for white people in almost every profession.

But what I’ve come to realise is that in spite of the limited number of Asian-Australian role models in the creative field, I should not be afraid to embrace the aspects of my identity (such as being a writer) that do not fit into the Asian-Australian stereotype. These aspects of my identity are real, and they are just as important as the nationality written on my passport or the pigment of my skin in defining who I am.

As a first generation Asian-Australian then, I need to be brave enough to carve out a personal identity that is reflective of who I want to be. After all, if a person remains true to their experience, no matter what it is, people will recognise it. Hopefully they will also respect it too.