Being a minority is hard. Being a part of multiple minority groups is even harder.
Recently, I shared a Facebook post and one of my classmates had commented on her feelings of humiliation toward being a Chinese woman. I get it though. It’s hard being a Chinese woman. In China, there is a traditional proverb “重男轻女” (zhòng nán qīng nü) which signifies that men are superior to women. Many very traditional Chinese people retain their sexist mannerisms to this day. Aside from that, women have to live up to unrealistic beauty standards set by society. Chinese women, specifically, are often faced with pressures to be stick-thin and pale-skinned. In high school, one of my friends frequently nagged about the tan of her skin and her nonexistence of a leg gap. She said that her thick legs would be shunned by the Chinese community back home.
Personally, I have never felt that way about my body because I was born a daughter to two tall, long-legged, and thin parents. My genetics have inherently lessened my encounters with words like “Oh my, what have your parents been feeding you?” and instead, increased the number of times I have heard “Honey, have your parents been feeding you?” The beliefs that exist and the indignant behavior toward women are not unknown to me and to other Chinese women. However, I find the silence to these comments stifling at times.
Sometimes one might feel like their own culture isn’t anything to be proud of. Sometimes it could be due to personal experiences, but other times it could be because the majority doesn’t seem to “approve” of our food and traditions.
This makes me think back to the articles I’ve read and the stories I’ve heard about a certain food or traditional aspect of a culture being judged by and then approved or suddenly made “cool” by the ethnic majority in America. I recently read an article where the author, a Muslim American, shared that many of her fellow elementary school students would make rude comments about the henna she used to wear on special occasions. However, in high school, because white people started wearing henna too, it was suddenly made into something she should embrace from her culture.
I don’t think it’s all that different in this case. We shouldn’t let ignorant people and their comments affect how we feel about our culture. It might be difficult to proudly embrace our cultures in a society that judges anything that seems “different” but we don’t have to let others dictate what should or should not be accepted.
The instances when I felt most ingrained in my culture were when I actually got to visit mainland China. Surrounded by Chinese people, going to tea houses to drink tea/喝茶 (hē chá) every morning with my grandparents, visiting ancient monuments — this all gave me a sense of understanding and appreciation toward my culture.
Now that I think about it, if my parents hadn’t taken me to visit China, I would not have become this cultured. Touring Beijing in the blazing sun in the midst of summer, I was able to travel back to previous Chinese dynasties. Walking the hills of Guizhou in 2010, I was able to witness the poverty that exists among the wealthier and more developed places in China.
I am also grateful to my parents for teaching me my mother tongue. Many Asian millennials are not being taught their native languages or dialects. Presently, indigenous dialects are becoming less and less preserved. My parents are from a small city in southwestern Guangdong, China called Taishan. At home, I speak Taishanese with my parents, and I am also able to communicate with my grandparents in this native dialect.
When I got to Emory and discovered that there was a Chinese Student Association, I felt ecstatic. I was excited to be a part of a club that embraces and shares the culture I come from. I am now even more elated at the prospect of there being an Emory Asian Women Association on campus. My Chinese heritage is a central facet of my identity. Being a woman is also a pertinent aspect of who I am. I am not ashamed to be a Chinese woman because this is who I am.