I thought I was through with being so pissed off about my identity politics after leaving undergrad. I used to get so angry (like a lot of Asian Canadian/Asian American guys) at people telling me who I am or trying to define my identity for me. I had my bout of wanting to be so individualistic that I spurned the notion of a culture of Chinese Canadianism. I then realized I was being f***ing stupid.
I ended up believing that identity is like water - fluid, sometimes stale, but most of the time moving. I am Canadian, but the story of my identity is both typical and unique, just like any other Canadian. I didn't get angry over pondering over identity politics after undergrad, nor did I give it much conscious thought unless I had a deep conversation about it with my brother.
Well, the Middle Kingdom has a way of rekindling things. I was walking with my buddies David and Nicholas down a place called Taylor Street in Wuchang on Saturday. We stumbled over a Chinese Christian church and peeked our head in. The guy at the door was really friendly, but he spoke no English. He told us what time mass was being held.
Then the conversation switched. I told him "Wo men shi Jianada ren" (We are Canadians). He was so surprised, he looked at me as if I didn't make any sense. He then went on a ramble to try to convince me that I was not Canadian. When I told the guys, they both laughed and said that I'm apparently Chinese now. "Even though my mom's a Surrey girl, my dad's Filipino, Vancouver is my native land, AND I don't speak Chinese all that well, I'm Chinese!? F**k this, this guy has a small world!"
But as angry as I was at the time, I think the guy began to understand me near the end of our conversation. He did admit that I was the height of my white friends, so there was something about me that didn't make me fully Chinese in his eyes.
Let's just say that I feel tall here in China.
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