Life’s Highs and Luos: Origin Story
While reading Michelle Obama’s book “Becoming”, I became inspired to put my life and my thoughts on paper. I hope to capture my naivety, development, and story for when I’m older to look back on.
To begin, we need to start with the people who created me: XiaoZhong Luo and XiaoTao Yao.
My parents first met in the Chinese city of Kun Ming, where they were both studying at the time. Long story short, they fell for each other and got married. I still question why my mom picked my dad. 😜
My dad, XiaoZhong, first immigrated to America to attend graduate school in Memphis. Can you imagine how scary it is to move to America from China? All you have is a piece of paper that says a random American school has accepted you to study biology. You don’t know if your visa will be accepted at the border. You don’t know anyone. You barely speak the language. You pack your whole life into two suitcases. Oh, and you only have $200 in your pocket. Somehow, he found a way to make it work.
A year later came my mom. Right before she immigrated, there were small scale student protests all across China. The Chinese youth refused the communist party’s way of life and wanted change. My mom wanted to be a part of this movement and to go to Beijing to join the cause. At the behest of my grandpa, a humble but straightforward ex-military rule follower, my mom decided to skip out on the protest in fear of losing a chance to travel to America to be with my dad.
This protest in Beijing eventually became known as the “TianAnMen Massacre”.
Eventually my mom made it safely over the Pacific ocean and met up with my dad with $200 in her pocket too. To fully make ends meet during the school year, my parents would spend the summer break away from Memphis and inside the bustling city of New York York, making some extra cash.
With little English skills, my dad managed to find a job as a delivery boy and a department store stocker. My mom worked in a hot, humid laundromat folding clothes. After a hard days work, they’d come back to their small NYC apartment which contained a small bed unable to hold their bodies without a leg or arm spilling over the edge.
While my mom was still in school, I was born. I was born wide eyed and curious with the world. I know it’s hard to believe but I used to be cute too.
My parents vividly remember on my mom’s graduation day, a hot Memphis summer day, me inside the stroller. Being the needy baby that I was, I refused to be anywhere but right next to my mom in her cap and gown. When my mom was called to walk across the stage though, all the focus was on my mom and her accomplishments. Not even a cute Michael could steal the spotlight.
My parents are the greatest thing to ever happen to me. They took a chance to move to a different country to give me and my brother a better life. They left behind friends, family, comfort, racial acceptance, culture, identity, and good food to give me and my brother a better shot at achieving the American dream.
They willingly and knowingly gave up their dreams to raise me in this country. They taught me the value of education. They taught me the value of not just math and science but humanities and communication. They were the ones playing soccer with me in the backyard. They were the ones sitting with me at 9pm, after a day’s work, helping me with my geometry homework. They were the ones taking me on every single vacation to open my eyes to the world.
They have shaped almost every aspect of my life and for that, I can’t begin to talk about me without beginning with them.
