A Nation Divided, A Family Divided?

When I woke up Wednesday morning and saw the news, I felt immense guilt. Sure, there was the usual disbelief, disappointment, and sadness, but above all, there was guilt.

Six weeks ago, my parents told me they supported Trump.

Last month, I was in Florida (yes, that Florida) having dinner with my dad, when he dropped the question: “Who are you voting for?” I answered, “Obviously Hillary.” Until then, I had not met a single Trump supporter, so I naturally assumed they were all unicorns who lived in the boonies, waving confederate flags and shooting rifles. Now, I was looking one in the eye, breaking bread with him.

I probed my parents on their views. First of all, how did my mother, someone who never paid an ounce of attention to politics, suddenly develop such strong opinions on the presidential candidates? I learned that her position was planted and watered by articles shared on WeChat (a Chinese messaging app). Her echo chamber of a newsfeed and 20 different chat groups explained everything.

I swept my annoyance under the carpet and didn’t debate much with them. The idea of Trump winning seemed so absurd, that it didn’t seem worth the time and energy to change their minds. In fact, the possibility of Trump winning seemed so minute, that I didn’t even bother staying up to finish watching the election; I turned in at 11:30 PM on the 8th.

As it turns out, I was also blinded by my own social media echo chamber.

When I woke up on the 9th, my stomach dropped. First came the denial — that feeling you get when you hear of someone’s passing. Next came anger. I felt betrayed by my own country and by my own parents. Then slowly, the salient emotion became guilt…. Guilt so heavy that there was a physical pain in my chest. Ten thousand thoughts crossed my mind: I should’ve tried harder to convince them, I shouldn’t have been so lazy, I should’ve urged my father to reconsider his ballot. What more could I have done? I have been awash with regret all week.

I’m not delusional. I know that ultimately, my dad and stepmom’s two votes would not have swung Florida, and Florida alone would not have swung the election. But still, it’s a discussion that I should not have backed away from when given that chance. It’s not every day that the topic of politics comes up between me and my parents. And who knows how many opinions my father and stepmom might have influenced after that dinner? Perhaps not many, but perhaps a lot. I’ll never know because I didn’t try. I suspect that my story resounds across thousands of families.

If you ask my parents why they support Trump, it boils down to four main issues: Affirmative Action, illegal immigration, taxation, and the welfare system. At the heart of their position is race — it’s the classic “in-group” versus “out-group” mentality. Why do Black students get to benefit from Affirmative Action while Asian American students must score 140 points higher on the SAT than their White counterparts? Why do illegal “Mexicans” get to stay when we came here legally and compliantly? When I try to talk to my parents about Black Lives Matter, it’s inevitably met with “but what about Asian lives? What about Peter Liang?”

It’s sadly not uncommon for Chinese Americans to view race relations as a zero-sum game. Additionally, there’s an element of “White is better”. Especially with the older generation, I sometimes get the sense that they’re constantly seeking the White Man’s validation. This mentality has deep-seated historical reasons, which I won’t get into now.

My heart broke this week. If at its core, this election was a battle of ideology, then what does it mean for my parents and I to be on different sides?

In addition to the cultural and generational gap that already exists, is there now a political gap as well? It disappoints me that my parents and I have this rift in communication, but I also have faith that they will listen to my perspective, as long as I’m patient and level-headed. Ultimately, I can’t fault my parents for their attitude. They grew up in a homogeneous society, during very different times. I grew up in this country, hand-in-hand, with Black, Latino, Muslim, and LGBT peers. They are my brothers and sisters. Now, I have to help my parents understand that. Race relations is not a competition — there’s no victory in being America’s “model minority.” Achieving that status is a fool’s errand.

For a while, there’s been a call to mobilize younger Asian Americans to discourse of racial and social matters with their family and community, but I’ve been always “too busy”. It took this election to wake me up. I can’t change the entire Chinese American community, but I can at least give my own parents some food for thought. I know what I’ll be doing this Thanksgiving.