Culture Shock: A Journey to New Perspectives

There’s something almost absolutely satirical that my journey towards appreciation of my heritage came through culture shock. Unlike most international adoptees, I’ve never had this great desire to study my native language, to go back to my home country, or to test my DNA to learn familial connections. I’ve had my own identity struggles, but in my latter teenage years, I developed a sense of confidence and contentment where I didn’t feel that more cultural knowledge was something I needed or particularly desired.

A great deal of this self-assurance can be accredited to the way my family has approached both adoption and cultural heritage. My family’s done an outstanding job embracing my story, from attending Chinese New Year celebrations, to celebrating Gotcha Days, to the ever-constant positive reinforcement of my home culture. This isn’t always the case in multicultural families or situations - and for this, I am grateful that I never experienced the negativity, hostility, or assimilation of culture that other adoptees and multiethnic stories have gone through. 

And I suppose, raised with an overwhelmingly healthy approach to my story and culture, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional culture shock that moving to Springfield, Missouri would prompt. 

Because I was moving only cross-regional, I didn’t expect many shifts. But that’s the amazing thing about travel: it provides the opportunities to learn both more about yourself and the world around you. The culture shock we experience can be such a positive incentive to broaden understanding. And like all things, culture shock is a phenomena that is multifaceted and unique to the backgrounds we have previously come from.

Living in Springfield for school revealed a lot of cultural disparities, from the South’s curious obsession with potatoes with every single meal, to coats coming out in fifty degree weather, to Wednesday night church being a calendar event for most people. And I’m sure there’s things about Maine, from our very strange habit of slurring any word that ends with an -a (sō-da becomes so-d/er/), our love of red hot dogs and soder called Moxie, and how in winter, we all adjust our agendas to properly defrost our cars (or, often, to do snow removal).

Point in case: there’s a lot of surface disparities between cultures that are truly subjective in nature; they add dimension and distinction to our lives, a sense of identity, but beyond that, they don’t typically alter our entire worldviews or core values. 

There are, however, more subtle occurrences of culture shock that can clash with our moral values. Naively, I didn’t think much of this type of shock would occur - especially not in relation to my cultural identity as a Chinese American.

Demographically, Maine and Missouri aren’t that different in terms of racial diversity - both are predominantly Caucasian states. However, living in Missouri I experienced the subtle culture shock of living in a state with more historic racial violence, discrimination, and a conservative demographic compared to Maine’s liberal majority. 

This may sound strange, but for one of the first times in my life, I carried with me this awareness that not only was I Juliese Padgett, but right behind that was the knowledge, sometimes the paranoia, that I am also Asian, Chinese. I don’t know if I could ever properly explain this phenomenon, but I existed in a different sphere because of my cultural and genetic background. 

This is something that I’ve felt before - I think it is safe to claim that most people not within the majority ethnicity have experienced this dysphoria. However, never to this degree had I experienced the overwhelming feeling that Asian, Chinese was stamped on my forehead. Never to this degree had I brushed against a historical narrative of such racial pain. And that’s something I can’t quite articulate either - sometime during my time in Missouri, I became ultra-aware and even ended up personally affected and weighed down by the almost imperceptible racial cries that plague Springfield, Missouri. 

To give a quick history lesson, Missouri, like most of our states, was inhabited by Native Americans. In the 1830s, Native American tribes west of the Mississippi River were [legally] driven out of their ancestral homes and forced to relocate. The path they trekked is most commonly known as “The Trail of Tears”, where an estimated 60,000 Native Americans died, even more suffering emotional and psychological trauma along with physical injury. The trail’s name is symbolic, a reminder I dare say, of the tears shed during this 2,200 mile journey. 

Only a little earlier, Missouri, only a territory, had requested recognition as a state. At the same time, Maine was on its way to being recognized as a state. James Tallmadge Jr, who submitted Missouri’s request, had listed Missouri as a state with restrictions on slavery. However, the southern states that bordered Missouri didn't believe the issue of slavery within a state should be a federal matter. Eventually, the government came up with a compromise: Maine was introduced to the United States as a free state, whereas Missouri was introduced as a slave-holding state. This was better known as the Missouri Compromise, and contributed to many of the tensions that ultimately led to the Civil War. 

After the Civil War and into the early days of WWI, many in Missouri (and, important to note, other states as well) were upset by the now free people of color and came to be part of the Ku Klux Klan. Better termed a terrorist group, members of the KKK would commit acts of horrendous violence towards black people and other minorities. The members of this group were the farmers, merchants, doctors, ministers, and politicians, of the state, which made the act of convicting them nearly impossible - witnesses declined to testify, resulting in the continual violence and breeding of white supremacy. Eventually, the KKK infiltrated the Missouri government and churches, passing laws and integrating subtle beliefs into congregations that allowed them to continue their violent actions under the protection of the law (both government and morally). 

This of course, is only a sliver of the racial history that Missouri has been a part of - I encourage you to explore more resources to gain an informed picture of the racial history of our nation - but just these three historical moments in Missouri’s story explain just how inhospitable Missouri was to a person of color or of diverse ethnic origin. Unfortunately, though Missouri has made progress, if we’re not aware, our histories have a tendency to shape our worldviews, and sadly, many in Missouri still have perspectives that discriminate against people groups, consciously or unconsciously. 

Now why did I take you on that long-winded history lesson? As I stated previously, I’ve never held a particular investment in cultural appreciation because it had never been an aspect that had ever been threatened. But that changed when I moved to Missouri - here, there is cultural tension and underlying pain that revealed to me just how important it is to properly appreciate heritage and culture. It’s easy to pass over this undercurrent within cultural establishments until your own cultural identity has been called into question.

Here in Springfield, cultural groups are subconsciously having to constantly establish themselves, planting themselves like trees and standing firm in their cultural identities. That’s why it’s fascinating to me that Springfield also has, hidden in plain sight, ethnically diverse, true-to-culture restaurants that are sharing with the world authentic recipes that entire cultures have bonded over. Now isn’t this a curious thing? A city with such a history of violence and assimilation can indeed harbor such culinary diversity. 

To me, this poses such a beautifully tragic picture. It’s beautiful that people groups are able to share food that has brought together their peoples for centuries. The first time I stepped into an authentic Chinese restaurant that served food I remember gobbling up on the other side of the globe - I cannot put into words how empowering it felt to go to a restaurant where it was like stepping back into Asian streets. Having always experienced the typical Asian American restaurant (which is a whole different blog post), it was validating. It was beautiful to see culture embraced and so boldly existing. 

But there’s also a note of tragedy to this - until you’ve made the conscious choice to adopt different worldviews, you might not realize just how much it means that culture can exist this proudly. That’s because, to most people, they don’t realize how profound something as simple as authentic ramen can be to us. There’s a note of tragedy because what I learned, perhaps a bit pessimistic in view, is that to everyone else, it’s a nice restaurant. They don’t see the affirmation that’s laced in every detail, that stays with us far longer than we could ever stay ourselves. 

It was at two authentically Asian restaurants (Corner 21 and Karai Ramen) that I first realized the value of my culture shock. Though it was painful, though at times  it made me want to change myself, though it came with heaviness, I have been unable to look at the world through the same lens as before. It was not until I was in a place of uncomfortableness that I was able to recognize the value I desire to have regarding both my own culture and all the cultures around me. Because my culture was always so celebrated, because I was never faced with the identity perplexities that I was faced with this fall, I never realized that learning my culture and taking pride in it is a privilege. What a privilege it is to carry my culture - what a privilege and honor because, if we’re not careful, this can be taken from us, written by someone else and I’ve found that story ends in the erasing of personhood. 

I don’t want to erase my personhood. Part of my personhood is the fact that I am proudly Chinese-American, and the longer I’ve been in Missouri, the less I’ve taken this for granted. I know that to some, I might always have that stamp on my forehead, and I haven’t fully come to peace about that, about my ethnicity being seen and judged before my other qualities. But I do know this: the heritages of thousands of people before me was brutally taken from them. I feel the cries of the Native Americans, the slaves, and the POC’s affected by Missouri’s history when I’m in the Springfield area. It is heavy. It is unexplainably heavy, but I am grateful for the discomfort. I am grateful I experienced a culture shock that shook me down to my identity - because I see with new eyes what thousands before me weren’t able to celebrate. What a gift to see. I take pride for those who couldn’t, I take pride so perhaps others might experience even a moment of culture shock that brings them through their own journey of new perspectives.

Cultivating Healthy Racial Discussions: Some Questions

As the topic of racial reconciliation continues to prevail through our media, the necessity for healthy racial discussion becomes more and more obvious. These conversations can be challenging, controversial topics to host, making them generally avoided because we’ve never been taught how they should be conducted. Unfortunately, there is no perfect blueprint to lead these conversations. However, if you’re seeking guidance, there are certainly good signs and bad signs to look for when you begin these discussions. Some of these signs can be spotted by honestly reflecting on the following questions:

1. What role do I play in this conversation?

Reflecting on your role previously prepares you for what can be an intimidating discussion and can help guide your conduct. 

1.  Am I hosting or am I in the position of being educated? 

As the conversation host you hold a responsibility to listen respectfully, have patience, and ensure the conversation continues to be productive. On the other hand, perhaps you are less versed in the unique facets of racial history and you’re in the position of a student. In this role, it is your job to acknowledge areas of ignorance, ask questions, and of course, learn. 

If you are the host, I ask you to reflect: 

1. Is the person opposite of me as educated in racial facets?

Though learning will occur in any position you happen to play, you may know more than the person opposite of you. If you do, it is important to know the other person’s range of knowledge and be able to lead the conversation without sounding like you are preaching to them. 

2. Am I in an emotional position to calmly talk about my racial worldview with another person whose views might differ from my own?

Can you hear something you might disagree with and handle it with love? If the person opposite to you says something that doesn’t sit right, are you capable of pointing out the inaccuracy without attacking them? Will you continue to be able to teach with love and patience? Being a host requires continual calmness and emotional maturity. It’s not easy, but I promise it’s possible!

3. What parts of my racial narrative are painful? If these wounds are reopened, am I emotionally mature enough to not transfer that pain to the other person?

In our vigor to see racial reconciliation, sometimes instead of acknowledging and treating the hurt racism has caused, we can end up transferring our pain to others. It is important to recognize our pain in order to healthily express it. 

4. Is the person I’m talking to willing to learn?

If the answer to this question is no, you can answer any questions, have conversations, but if they are unwilling to learn, it is your responsibility to wipe the dust off and move on. It is not worth sharing our deep values with ears that aren’t ready to learn.

5. What more do I have to learn?

Sometimes, when we take the role of teacher, we can easily convince ourselves that we know it all. But we do not. Racial reconciliation is based upon learning and embracing others’ unique perspectives and requires an openness to learn. Humbleness is also equally important because we do not want to alienate those opposite of us and thus lose our opportunities. 

If you are the student:

1. Am I willing for my views, my comforts, to be challenged?

If your answer is no, then this conversation won’t go very far. If you’re not willing to be challenged, for your views to be called into question, it simply means that this makes you uncomfortable. And that’s completely totally normal. It takes time, but if you’re willing, soon your answer to this question will change, and that’s your green light!

2. Does the person I’m having this conversation with have a healthy racial worldview?

As a learner, it is important to learn from someone healthy! Ask yourself: 

• Does this person openly admit to their limited perspectives and biases? 

• Do they seek mutual growth during these conversations?

• Do they have a diverse social circle? 

• Do they use respectful terms that reinforce a person's/group’s value?

If these all sound like your person, then they sound quite healthy! The biggest most important quality of a healthy teacher is that they do not leave you feeling ashamed for your developing racial journey. If they do, please do not continue these types of conversations with that person. 

3. What previous experiences in my life have shaped some of the mindsets I hold?

Reflecting on what has shaped our mindsets is powerful - what has shaped what you believe? Knowing the roots of your mindsets allows you to better communicate why you hold a certain view, and discussions will allow you to reflect on if that association is healthy or not. 

4. How has racism hurt me personally?

Everyone has been hurt by racism. Everyone. We carry deep, inflicted wounds from the racial injustice that have influenced our lives. Knowing how racism has hurt you personally allows you room for both empathy and healing. 

The topic of racial reconciliation isn’t an easy one - the discussions aren’t always going to be comfortable and they require a willingness to let go of previous mindsets. But, in learning how to have these discussions, we cultivate a healthier racial worldview and perhaps in turn, can share this growth with others. My friends, there is so much healing to be had in this topic, and I hope your reflections help you pursue the beauty and the growth that discussion on racial reconciliation can provide. 

Regardless of Ethnicity: A Message of Mindfulness

As the goal towards racial justice becomes more and more mainstream, I’ve had the opportunity to cultivate several discussions regarding racial reconciliation. Due to my inner circle consisting mostly of Caucasians, my perspectives sometimes come as a surprise to my white counterparts. There’s beauty in my perspective - these people will never be able to experience life through the eyes of an Asian American adoptee and hopefully, my viewpoint allows a glimpse into a wider racial climate than they were previously aware of. 

And as I’ve gotten to have these hard discussions, I've also had the honor of getting a glimpse at their unique perspectives on the subject of racial reconciliation. Because even if this society holds biases in a white person’s favor, being a white American is a culture of its own and I value learning from an inside perspective. 

When offered this intimate glance, I found myself discovering deep resistance to these conversations - resistance that stemmed from deep hurts. As I got more and more chances to listen, the more this hurt became visible to me.

Pain like this - I recognized it - and the root of it horrified me. These people have faced verbal attacks that have left them ashamed of being white. 

If this doesn’t scare you, it should. 

This is the same racism that’s plagued our narrative for centuries. History wails with the pain that occurs when we reduce and assume people’s value based on their skin tone. And even if discrimination changes its appearance, it is never justifiable and causes immeasurable damage and hurt. 

Before I continue, I’d like to acknowledge that I do not take lightly the pain specific to POCs that unfortunately, is a part of our cultural narrative. The lack of value placed on a human’s life due to ethnicity is never acceptable and it needs to be acknowledged that certain categories of people groups are more brutally attacked for simple physical attributes. Furthermore, it is essential that our growth as a culture is to acknowledge and work to eradicate acts of racism. But as we emerge ready for social change, we must acknowledge that some means can cause hurt. In our drive, have we villainized white people for sins they themselves have not committed? Is that not an act of discrimmination? My friends, the goal of racial reconciliation is to address and heal pain, not to exchange it. 

That being said, in order to avoid attacking others during our racial discussions, we must change our approaches to such conversations. If we point fingers, if we accuse people of their ancestor’s actions without on the other hand pointing out the growth they are able to cultivate, we lose our platform. Accusations we level on the white party today, they only serve as reasons for them to construct walls and maintain limited racial perspectives. When we point fingers, villainize people groups, we lose the opportunity to help guide someone to a wider, more inclusive racial worldview. 

Racism has stirred deep pains in our stories, regardless of if we are black, white, or somewhere in between. In order to heal, we must be able to express this pain and treat the source, but please, please, ensure before these conversations occur that this pain does not drive us to drag down certain people groups to the level we feel we’ve been put on. Instead, we must be able to constructively express our pain in a way that seeks to be understood. From here, we can express our desire to see true equity - where all people are held to the same standards having already begun on the same level.

My friends, there is so much potential beauty and growth in the hard subject of racial reconciliation. But as we pursue these conversations, it is essential that we work to end discrimination, not transfer it. By recognizing the hurt each of us carry regardless of our ethnicities and embracing our different perspectives, we cultivate a safe environment to mutually expand our racial worldviews.

Are Asians POC?

Illustrated by Joelle Padgett

    With the discussions of racial theory being such an impassioned subject, influenced by politics and personal experience, I have attempted to stay quiet on the entire matter. Truthfully, I thought this was a subject that I was not qualified to speak about. Having this mindset, I struggled with an impressive writer’s block, doing everything in my power to avoid a topic I considered myself unfit to write about. 

It was during this time that many started to feel comfortable voicing their thoughts on race, colorism, and demanding accountability. Somewhere in these people’s descriptions, the phrase “person of color” credentialed them. Of course, they could talk about these issues! They were the exact people it was affecting! I celebrated to know that after so long, these topics were being discussed, and I didn’t blink an eye at the phrase Person of Color (otherwise known as POC).

That is until I started pondering what the acronym stood for. Who was considered colored? How big was the umbrella of people it covered? My biggest question: 

Are Asian people, even those not culturally “black”, considered people of color?

The dictionary definition of POC, “anyone who isn’t white”, leaves a lot of room - perhaps too much room - for interpretation. And though I’ve never been able to check off the “white” box on an official form, I thought for sure that I didn’t fit under this definition. 

My main reason for believing this term did not apply to me is because I felt it was privileged of me to do so. After all, a considerable amount of Asians, specifically Chinese, are thought of as “comfortable in between,” or even described as “exotic.” Besides a belittling joke or comfortable ignorance of our cultures, a large number of us have never faced the degree of racism that people with darker skin experience on a horrendous basis. This “lack” of prejudice led me to conclude that Asians, or Chinese at the least, probably shouldn’t go addressing themselves as people of color. 

But still, the question nagged at me: are Asians POC? In comparison to automatic biases, lower expectations, and schemes designed to trap groups into generational poverty, Asians have lacked many struggles that people of (darker) color contend against. Only one thing still bothered me - Asians aren’t white. Shouldn’t that baseline qualify us? 

Maybe, in all honesty, this little description wasn’t worth all this mulling over. Did it matter at the end of the day whether I could use this expression? I found that it did matter to me. “Person of color” wasn’t just a term that meant I wasn’t white. To use this term meant that I had even more of a reason to speak up about issues that not everyone would relate to, but provided me with a soapbox for those who do experience these struggles. 

Declaring myself to be a person of color allows me to acknowledge and raise awareness of my rich ancestry. With this as a pulpit, I can boast of the complicated history of my home country China, while at the same time, being a spokesperson for the mistreatment this group of people has faced. These transgressions include the discrimination that led to the creation of Chinatowns or the belittled subject of Chinese underpaid employment and trafficking. From my perspective, being able to use the term POC allows me to speak of the past, its mistakes, and push towards effective change for the future.

I understand that POC is an imperfect term. Overuse threatens it to become useless, while blatant misuse will cause mass misinterpretation. This acronym’s definition has morphed throughout the context and cultural practices of those using this term. For example, in South Africa, a country that experienced the United Kingdom’s colonization, “coloureds” (their version of POC) refers to any one of a local small ethnic group or those who are multiracial. In the United States, this term has become associated with the social justice movement and politics. Activist Loretta Ross even credits the beginnings of the derivative term WOC (Women of Color) to the political National Women's Conference. Here several women of different ethnic backgrounds coined the term to refer to the collaboration of women who shared the struggles of being a “minority.” So, as other terms have become obsolete due to their offensive natures or throughout cultural and linguistic progressions, I am aware that this term and its associations in the future may not align with my own, or your own, personal beliefs. 

However, to share my understanding and [current] opinion, POC as a term should be treated as nothing more than an umbrella to group those with similar experiences. “Person of color” is a valuable adjective not as a credential, not for those who are “worthy” of the term, but as a means to connect with those whose stories reflect our own. With this in mind, my future focuses for this blog are veering slightly from adoption awareness to the thoughts of a transracial adoptee navigating these complex topics. 

Fueling Misperceptions

According to the U.S. Census, only 1.3% of Maine’s population is of Asian ethnicity. If these statistics are compared to the 1.3 million people who live in the state, that means that there’s only about 17,000 Asian people in Maine, which sounds large, but it really is not. Due to the large percentage of this group that reside in the inner cities, many people I know, who live more rurally, have met very few Asians in their lives.

To me, this poses a very startling realization. In the circle of people I know, which is admittedly small, I might be the only Asian person they’ve ever really known. And while this does not seem particularly profound in itself, I daresay it is. Because of my singularity, I hold a responsibility to represent my culture, and possibly, influence the way which it is perceived.

For example, I, a Chinese American teenager, have struggled with acne in the past. However, one might look at me, notice that I am of Asian descent, and assume that is a trait of the majority of Asians, without further knowledge or research. This particular assumption is for the most part harmless. It is a deduction based on unverified facts and what this person has observed. However, sometimes these assumptions are not just about acne. Sometimes these assumptions are spread to the entirety of an ethnic group, causing hurt and misunderstanding.

This is important for us to realize because the way we act has the ability to fuel or dispel such perceptions.

You see, when we interact with people, especially those who don’t know us as well, we are not just representing ourselves. In these situations, our behaviors are the representation of our cultural group, ethnicity, etc. Why is this? Each person, thing, or experience influences one’s perceptions of the world, and for us who are “minorities,” we not only affect how they view us, but also, how they see all of our ethnicity as a whole.

And while every person should live with a mindset of responsibility and hold themselves with integrity, I feel that for those belonging to a minority, this truth is even more so applicable.

Truthfully, whether people care to admit or not, we, as humans, group people together by any factor that can possibly be compartmentalized. This, for better or worse, applies heavily to aspects such as ethnicities, especially ones that are foreign to us.

Is this about forming unfair, unjust perceptions? Yes. Does prejudice play a major role? Also yes. However, this is not a matter of them, we cannot control them and trying to do so will only spark anger and division. Rather, this is a matter of you and me. Whether we like it not, our actions and behaviors can and will affect the perceptions of others.

The responsibility we hold has the power for radical change, in both us and others. In our actions, our speech, and our relationships, we can be the embodiment of millions before and around us, and this is a power both motivating and potentially dangerous.

My intention is not to intimidate but rather to inform and, hopefully, encourage change in each of you, regardless of your ethnicity. I urge you to reflect on yourself and ask, “Who do I represent? As a representative, how am I portraying them? Are my actions doing their part to positively present the bigger culture I belong to, or are my actions able to fuel misperceptions?”