Some personal reflections on developing a new narrative on the identity of being a Chinese Canadian
I had just finished two funding submissions for a year-long collaboration with Don Kwan, a Chinese Canadian artist in search of the stories behind the Chinese Canadian identity through undocumented history, Chinatowns, and artistic expressions. It has spiralled down into a personal reflection since we started developing the concept and have led me to think about what it means to me on my terms.
My side of the story is always about the exit. The stories about families fleeing from Hong Kong in the late 80s and 90s, families from rural villages taking on new identities in North America to escape poverty, and people seeking “a life elsewhere” from political beliefs they don’t agree with have dominated my journey of becoming a Chinese Canadian. Canada is a plan B. I was always told that coming to Canada was a plan B, in case of “there’s no more future” we can all take on another life that has one.
For the longest time, the kind of role model I had are people who “just wanted a normal life.” By “normal life,” they meant the North American dream: a large suburban home, food on the table, cars in their driveway, successful children, and a good 20 years of peaceful retirement. Admittedly, I wasn’t happy even thinking about that kind of life. There was not much to look forward to. I’ve never imagined a life where I would punch in and punch out at a job for decades, giving up the freedom I was granted as part of this plan B.
I didn’t enjoy being part of the “Asian kids” in school. It felt like a failed attempt at being an insider. I never identified with Chinese American depictions developed in Hollywood to suit the western appetite. Chinatown was also a foreign concept to me. It is a survival tactic — imagine a hedgehog curling in to protect its soft belly. I refused to be there. Being in Chinatown felt like a lie. My escape was wasting my life on Anime and Manga. Some of the notable pieces of work like Ghost in the Shell, Steamboy, and Paprika also opened up a whole new worldview for me — nothing is definitive, and nothing is permanent. I was obsessed with earlier Wong Kar Wai’s films and the hand-held chaotic qualities. I read Japanese mythical stories and the ancient history of China. I’d watch Björk’s music video of All is Full of Love on repeat and think of a time of emotional robots, and being intimate is not just a thing for the ones with flesh and bones. Sheena Ringo is still my favourite artist. The Internet was a significant part of my life. It wasn’t this addictive pull-refresh and endless FOMO kind of “a major part of my life”, but more of a place where I can escape to, like how the generations of Chinese Canadians before me fled the motherland. I was fleeing from real life.
Now that I am thinking through my own experiences with this collaboration, I felt that I wasn’t fleeing from real life. I just had nothing to look up to while desperately trying out this new identity. I was always being rushed into making decisions. I didn’t know that I could imagine alternatives.
It’s time to look into what we can uncover. The understanding of Chinese identity vs Chinese Canadian identity, and the alternative paths one can take to navigate their own future.
