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My parents could have made a few choices differently so that I wouldn't be as much of a banana as I am

 - the voice of Pi

It's funny how parents affect us. When we are young, it seems like the soul purpose in our lives is to cause them trouble. It's difficult to raise a child in any circumstances, but when the parents have to raise the child in an unknown culture, the ensuing culture clash can compound the problems.

When I look back at the way I was raised, there are two key elements that shaped me into the banana mould of today. First, it was the decision to not move to a large centre of Chinese culture. Secondly, it was the frantic effort from our parents to make me learn English. In hindsight, I find both these situations regrettable.

When our family first came to China, we moved to Sudbury, Ontario. It may seem like a strange place to move to from China, but it was where our closest relatives lived and was the best economic choice at that time. Being in central Ontario and a mining city, there weren't many Chinese people and most of my interactions were with Caucasian kids. Eventually, we moved to Pickering and then Ajax, both suburbs of Toronto. Though we were much closer to a Chinese cultural source, we did not live in it and most of my peers were still of the Caucasian persuasion. It wasn't until I started university at Waterloo that I finally found myself in a culture of Chinese people, but by that time, it was too late, I was an irreversible banana.

This leads to the second point. One of the many reasons that I did not interact with the Chinese crowd was the language barrier. I could understand most of what they were saying, but I didn't feel comfortable conversing with them because of my huang hua ("hometown") accent and phrases. The problem was that even though my parents spoke Cantonese at home, I was never forced to speak Cantonese back to them. I remember when I first came to Canada and watched the television, I asked my mom in Cantonese "When are those people going to learn how to speak?" Well, I learned the language and I think our parents wanted us to as well, so they didn't mind if we spoke English. It was a step onto conquering Canada and the cultural barriers.

Looking back, it is clear that my parents contributed to my lack of Cantonese abilities. Since I was only three when I moved to Canada, it would have been very easy for me to learn English just by conversing with my peers and watching television, there was no need for my parents to frantically teach me English. Had we moved to downtown Toronto or Vancouver, I would have had many more Chinese peers and been able to practice my Cantonese as well as learn much more about the Chinese culture. And even if we didn't live in a metropolitan area bustling with Chinese culture, my parents could have forced me to speak to them in Chinese. It is something terribly simple because presumably I was once very fluent in Cantonese when I first came to Canada. Had I continued conversing with my parents in Chinese, I would probably be fluent in Chinese today, but probably just as oblivious to the culture.

I am not blaming my parents for anything. All I am saying is that my parents could have made a few choices differently so that I wouldn't be as much of a banana as I am. I would still be a banana no matter what course my parents took, but I would be a banana fluent in Chinese.

Things that shape us

 - the voice of banana_appeal

Parents have a profound effect on their offspring - by virtue of their choices and their attitudes. I am a self professed banana. I immigrated to Canada and the bustling asian centre of Vancouver when I was 3 years old. My family life was full of asian history, culture, language, art and literature. Chinatown was a weekly excursion, family debates in the chinese language and television shows and movies from HongKong was the nightly family gathering. I was expected to be translator for my parents. This meant I could *not* forget about my chinese language. These were conscious decisions on my parents part - to tell me stories about Chinese mythology, to involve me in discussions... My parents wanted to shape me into a traditional asian girl, intelligent, attractive, talented and demure. But this only occurred within the sphere of my family, my extended family, and my father's friends.

My opportunities to practice and live my asian culture only occurred in social interaction within my immediate family, my extended family, and my father's friends. It also meant that my exposure to asian culture was filtered through my parents - which meant they could censor and control all subversive influences. But true social integration requires practice outside of the family sphere, if it is to become an integral part of our outer selves.

Unfortunately for me, though I went to school with Asians, I never interacted with them outside of school - in any asian setting, like dim sum. My parents liked to keep me at home - partially so they could keep an eye on me and make sure I studied and was a good kid. I was a latchkey kid at 5 years old. It also did not help that we moved once a year, and so I was always the new kid. Eventually my Asian identity soon became my inner identity, forever associated with just my family, never my friends or society at large.

Being precocious, I had many adult friends, but none my own age, which contributed to some of my problems socializing with Asian kids in Vancouver who liked to talk about comic books rather than asian history. So finally when I did manage to make friends of my own age I was living in the suburbs and I was basically the only asian kid. And of course that meant I was used to socializing with nonAsians. And when there was suddenly an influx of asians to Vancouver - most of them were FOBs [please see previous entries for definition] and did not want to socialize with the poorer and non chinese speaking asians. Regardless of whether I knew the different between a lychee and longan, or the different intonation between mother and horse.

I basically did not know how to interact with any asians my own age.

Dating was a whole other minefield to navigate. How would I consolidate my bifurcated two selves? My inner very asian family oriented self, and my outer enthusiastic somewhat eccentric self?

I know I am attracted to asian guys - from my early exposure to asian television shows, movies, and music, but I'm also attracted to non asians too - due to my exposure to north american television shows, movies and music.

Unfortunately due to my social handicap of not being able to socialize with Asians, my dating pool was severely restricted. And of course the non-Asian guys I ended up dating couldn't understand my insanely Asian ways, or my self-deprecating side - they all liked my bravado - of self assuredness and self confidence. And most Asian guys didn't feel comfortable dating me - because of my different methods of socializing, and my alternative interests. I wasn't the typical asian female who only liked to shop, or the ones that was totally outdoorsy and athletic, or even the traditionally artistic ones with their violins, pianos, and water color. That was me too, until I decided to rebel against my parents, grew artistically, and went alternative. I wasn't athletic because my parents didn't instill that in me, we didn't play sports together. One more thing to blame them, my physical inactivity.

So for a while I rebelled against everything my parents instilled in me, and I turned my back on my asian culture. My parents fear of the alternative pushed me to experiment. Now that I'm older and wiser I've swung back the other way, hopefully a more balanced median between what my parents wanted me to be and what I wanted myself to be.

No matter where you live, never forget your roots

 - the voice of Li'l Polar Bear

Depending on how much a parent wants to assimilate into western society plays a deciding factor in whether their child is a banana or not.

Although there are exceptions to every case, I find that those who want to be fully westernized raise "bananas", those who want to be partially westernized raise "jook-sings", and those who don't want to be westernized raise "Chinese" kids.

The bananas are usually not forced to or given the chance to embrace the Chinese culture. Sometimes, the child themselves chooses to rebel as a result of the parents forcing the Chinese culture upon them.

The Chinese kids, or FOBs as some call them, usually have parents that don't want to be westernized, thus resulting in the kids not wanting to be westernized due to the mindset instilled upon them from their parents.

My parents raised me to be a "jook-sing". I'm sure that it probably wasn't their true intention to raise a child that is neither westernized nor Chinese, but I don't think they have any regrets and neither do I.

I remember I had problems speaking English when I started pre-school. My parents spoke to me in Cantonese and as a result, I had a limited English vocabulary. I remember running to my teacher, saying that another kid was calling me names. At that time, I did not know the word for "woa sheun" - Buddhist monk, so I did my best by saying the kid called me a "man with no hair".

Even though I had a limited English vocabulary, I did not start formal training in Chinese until I was in Grade 3. I started attending Chinese school when a new Chinese school opened at the local elementary school, even though there were long-established Chinese schools in Chinatown, a 15 min drive from my home. I stopped attending after about 4 yrs, when the politics at the school, which my mom taught at, got ugly. I was given the option to continue attending the school or transfer to the Chinatown school or just stop going. I choose the latter option since I found that with the amount of Chinese I was taught, I never had an opportunity to fully utilize it. Plus, it would take quite some time before I learnt enough to read a newspaper or write a letter.

My dad was a western chef, so my household was filled with all varieties of food, Chinese and western, all year round. Christmas would consist of a turkey with fried rice or a soya chicken with mashed potatoes. I would hang around the kitchen, learning the recipes of foods I enjoyed. As result, I make an awesome lasagna, a full-course turkey dinner, in addition to the traditional slow-cooking Chinese soups and side dishes.

All in all, I think my parents did a wonderful job, raising me to embrace my roots while adapting to the society around me. While I may not have full grasp of reading and writing Chinese, I can carry a fluent Cantonese conversation without disclosing my CBC origin. Even though I may have westernized opinions on some subjects, my Chinese beliefs and superstitions still exist at times. Since I live in a Western society with a partially westernized Chinatown, I find opportunities to learn about the Chinese culture and have done so by taking lessons in Chinese brush painting and guzheng, with complete support and encouragement from my parents.

One day, when it's time to raise my own children, I'll teach them what my parents taught me: no matter where you live, never forget your roots.

Parental Discretion Advised

 - the voice of Fervidus Humanus

One day, I thought about how parents of young children spend so much time and energy raising their kids. Then, I thought about what I might want for my kids, and only then did it finally dawn on me how complete and blind parental love can be. What seems unquestionably obvious to parents does not always register with those who have not yet had children. I definitely agree that parental upbringing does influence the way children transform into teenagers, then adults. So I am beginning to understand the motivation behind putting children first, children second, children third, and everything else fourth.

It is obvious that Asian families do control their children more than the average Canadian family. Asian parents are faced with the dilemma of raising their kids in a foreign environment. "Foreign" in their minds since they likely were immigrants to Canada, but perhaps not as foreign to the children, who would be spending most of their lives in Canada. I think many parents fear this possibility of losing their children to this new country. In order to prevent their children from becoming totally whitewashed, many parents flood them with Chinese information, bias, and culture. Once we grow up, we become children of dual identity: Chinese and Canadian. I believe the cultural stimuli from simply living in Canada make one a Canadian far quicker and more effectively than any parental guidance can change. Thus, there is merit in parents encouraging or forcing their children to appreciate Chinese customs and traditions. I have seen families that have little interest in passing on Asian traditions to their children, and thus their children grow up far more whitewashed. I have also seen families that constantly decry Canada. Children of those families may end up living here longer, but will always call their Asian country of origin "home". Parents do have an influence on their children's lives, and greatly so, perhaps more than we children would like to admit.

This identity mystery is something Asian Canadian youth cannot deny, even if we wanted to, so it is something we must learn to deal with. We have no cultural obligations to either our Asian heritage or our Canadian roots, other than that which we feel ourselves. I suppose I am a believer in the concept of the individual. I believe I should respect both my Chinese and Canadian roots. This attitude stems from my parents, from Canadian culture, and also from my own values.

I don't regret the choices my parents made. I don't regret growing up in Canada. I love my identity as a banana, and that is something I will never seriously use as an excuse. I still consider myself a banana, even though I have both Chinese and Canadian tendencies both on my exterior and inside my mind. Though this complex may sometimes bring me despair, it also brings me joy.

Canada is still a young country, and the face of the nation constantly changes. But as our population increases, more Canadians will stay here, will not "go back home" upon getting an education and opening their own doors. They will stay to raise their own families, and those children will be the next generation of Asian Canadians. Again, the question of passing on Asian values will arise, and it will be up to them (us) to decide what is important to pass onto the new generation.

"You're not allowed to date Black or Indian," said my mom.

 - the voice of 14_of_Spades

Growing up, this idea was instilled into my sister. It appeared logical since she wasn't Black nor Indian. What was left was White and Chinese, which seemed reasonable enough.

There however, was a subtle message in all of this. By not being White, and yet accepting White, my mother was implicity suggesting that my sister who has grown up in North America, was inherently "supposed" to date White. The only ethnicity permitted is Chinese, and that's acceptable only because we were Chinese. If we weren't Chinese, then White would be the only choice.

My parents are more adventurous than I am.

 - the voice of Hot Soup

In their youth they left their country, their culture, their continent, to find a different life in a wealthy but cold place called Canada. Distances between places were greater then; without e-mail, or Cathay All-Asia passes, or even cheap long distance telephone calls, it was hard to stay in touch with family and friends back home. Leaving Taiwan was a huge step.

Thirty years later, they are still in that new country. We always think of the previous generation as being conservative fuddy-duddies, but I don't know if I could do the same, move to France or Germany to live out the rest of my life. I certainly haven't tried yet, and I'm almost as old as they were when they left.

Imagine yourself immigrating to Japan. It's a beautiful place, with an exciting culture, and you find a job with a tech company there. The people are a little strange because they don't react the way you expect them to, but you get used to it, and in any case, you soon find a group of North Americans to hang out with once in a while.

The days change into weeks, months into years, and life goes as any other life would. You meet a nice native-English-speaking girl, or convince your boyfriend to come to Japan, they seem tolerable enough, and before you know it you have little baby banana-blog readers. But as they grow up in Japan, no longer babies, you become aware of disquieting changes. They're absorbing more and more Japanese culture from their grade school, and although you speak English at home, they're more interested in manga comics and weird J-pop and the latest "loose socks" style than your stories of riding your bike in multicultural Vancouver, and skiing Whistler, and the wide open spaces of Canada.

But it's not just pop culture, it's also character. They're more repressed, or perhaps less individualistic, than you remember yourself being at their age. Their friends think you're lazy because you don't put in sixty hour weeks like their parents, and your children are slightly embarrassed that their mother doesn't put on makeup before she goes out to the supermarket. As they get older, you notice that perhaps you haven't been speaking enough English at home, because their English has a Japanese accent. And sometimes you think to yourself, who are these little aliens I've raised? How could this piece of me, so much like me, suddenly say something completely incomprehensible at the dinner table?

And one day, one day your daughter will come home crying to say that the other girls hate her because she's different, because she looks different, and you'll tell her that it's okay for her to be who she is, but you know that she's more like them and unlike you - more than they, or she, will ever understand.

Mother Tongue

 - the voice of Hot Soup (again)

Former Singapore president Lee Kuan Yew and other Asian leaders have often praised the politically autocratic but liberally capitalist "Asian values" model for society. The Asian family upon which it is based is similar. Parents make decisions by dictatorial fiat and expect obediance. They don't consult with the proletariat, or hold public debates or referendums.

That's what I always saw at my house. I was always mystified by my friends who would have discussions with their parents, who could actually convince their parents that their point of view was right. I did envy certain friends because they could make puns with their parents, engage in wordplay, and communicate about so many more things. As for arguing, in my family that was only for therapeutic purposes. If you wanted things done a different way from what your parents wanted, you just silently did it and circumvented them.

Lately, I've been thinking that it might have been a language barrier rather than a difference in attitude. Why "lately"? Because it was only at the age of 23 that I realized how broken my parents' English was. My mother has difficulty communicating with insurance agencies and lawyers, even though her Chinese is educated and fluent. My father, intelligent man that he is, sometimes expresses the exact opposite of what he means in English, and I often find myself stepping in to translate. Growing up, I'd somehow never noticed, because that's just the way they were, but as I got older, I became more aware of how our tied our tongues were when we tried to communicate with each other.

So their broken English vocabulary (and my crap Chinese) limited the topics we could talk about. You can struggle through, but it's just not worth the effort, and you end up not discussing literature or the subtleties of your friendships, or the complexities of family relationships. Your scope of humour is reduced, your personality is different because you can only express certain things (or only express things in a certain way). Now that I think about it, perhaps they feel the same way about me, a son who they can't really fully communicate with.

If I spoke Chinese, or their English was better, maybe I would have been shaped into a different person. I know that my skills in rhetoric would have been much better, and maybe I would have more belief in the power of discussions, in the ability to change other people's minds through communication. Not just in work, where technical data and logical thinking can convince even where language skills are lacking, but in relationships and in emotions and in the other important things.

But maybe I'm being over-sophisticated and forgetting that important things can be said with simple words.