"Do You Feel Chinese?"

Despite looking physically different from the majority of people I’m surrounded by; most of the time, I don’t even realize that I’m Chinese. Even when I’m looking directly in a mirror, the fact that I’m Chinese is more of a second thought. I mean, I’m not American, but I’m pretty sure that they don’t look at themselves and think, “I’m feeling quite American today.” 

Which is why I’m always baffled when people ask, “Do you feel Chinese?”

Sometimes, I want to answer, “No, I feel like a Canadian,” just to see their faces. But in all seriousness, I don’t really see a need for this question because it’s almost, in some sort of weird way, like making me choose between my American upbringing or my Chinese heritage. I can’t choose because both have and will continue to influence my life, my choices, and shape who I am. 

However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have moments where I just feel Chinese. Those moments happen when I huddle in with my volleyball team and notice that I’m significantly tanner than everyone else. I also feel it when I put my contacts in, and my eyes are refusing to stretch anymore, thanks to my almond-shaped eyes. Additionally, I feel it when I have nothing to share with a group about the first three years of my life. 

To answer the question in the most honest way I can, I do feel Chinese: I feel it every once in awhile--like a gentle voice telling me I am not in the same place I started. And sometimes, that thought makes me feel anything from angry to sad. These thoughts can make me feel out of place, momentarily awkward, or will make me question who I am and why God placed me here of all places.  

But then, I stop and reflect . . . I take a look at what I’ve been able to do because of my Chinese heritage. My rich history was what kindled me to write The Newest Flower. It’s because of this history that I can go into classrooms and encourage kids to embrace their differences. Every book event I’ve ever done was because of my Chinese heritage. This entire blog is dedicated to the fact that I’m Chinese. But perhaps the most telling is when I can look in the face of a little girl named Nadine and say that my Chinese background helped her get home. 

And all of this has happened, not in spite of being Chinese, but because I am Chinese. So if you ask me today if I feel Chinese, my answer would sound a little like this, “Yes, because some of my greatest moments have been because of my Chinese heritage, and it’s part of who I am.”

All You Can Ever Know Book Review

Seeded in all of us is the desire to know, to chase after facts, and to grow in knowledge of the world around us while discovering who we are. Adoptees are no different; in fact, their quest to find answers is even more profound at times, and in the memoir All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung, she dives deep into her wish to know the story about her adoption. 

In the very first few chapters, Nicole tells us about her background. Adopted as an infant, she never knew anything but what her parents chose to tell her, which to her frustration, wasn’t very much. With these shreds of information, she attempts to find her place as the only Korean in her little town. However, when she goes to college, she meets like-minded people and fellow Koreans, feeling for the first time in her life, that answers were within her reach. 

But not until she’s pregnant with her own child, does something truly stir inside of her. The seedling of fascination from her youth was plaguing her, and when her child was old enough to ask questions, she wanted to be able to answer them. After a few weeks of consideration, she takes the leap of faith and hires an adoption intermediary to gain access to files that hold the names of her birth family.

It turned out that the picture-perfect ideal she imagined as a girl was faded into a harsher reality. But as Chung reflects, she shares about how learning about her past made her realize that adoption isn’t black and white, right or wrong. It’s an intricate web of emotions, and there’s no exact way to go about it. One of my favorite quotes that truly encaptures her journey is this: “Today, when I’m asked, I often say that I no longer consider adoption—individual adoptions, or adoption as a practice—in terms of right or wrong. I urge people to go into it with their eyes open, recognizing how complex it truly is; I encourage adopted people to tell their stories, our stories, and let no one else define these experiences for us.”  

To say this book is eye-opening would be an understatement. As an Asian adoptee myself, I connected with her stories of not fitting in and how she imagined a different reality where she was with her birth family. Chung shared her deepest, most secret thoughts and they made me look at my own story differently. For example, I’ve never been against the prospect of finding my birth family, but I’ve never thought about what would happen if I actually did. After reading this, I sat down and journaled my thoughts, and realized that I do want to try to get those answers, but not immediately. Something unique about this story is that she spends her whole life wondering, but doesn’t act upon it as soon as she can. She waits, and even spends time considering if she wants to, which emphasizes that it’s okay for adoptees to be hesitant and to take their time because it’s not always about having answers, but rather it’s about being emotionally ready for those answers.  

As much as I loved the candidness of this book, it felt rather cynical at times. I realize that I am not always the most optimistic person, but in this book, especially in the beginning, I felt like Chung’s views on adoption were one-sided, which might may have developed because she had no exposure to people like her. Despite this reasoning, it made the first few chapters difficult to read because I didn’t agree with her frame of mind. Adoption isn’t inherently good or bad, it’s a beautiful mix of both, and with all the negativity surrounding this subject, I think it is important to weigh both sides of the coin. 

Altogether, there is a reason this book was nominated for awards such as being a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award for Autobiography, was named a Best Book of the Year by the Washington Post, and is one of the most popular memoirs to date. It was groundbreaking in the adoption world, unapologetically outspoken, yet held together by a subdued voice, longing to be heard. Even though there were parts of this book I didn’t agree with, this is a book I would highly recommend to any adoptee who has a desire to learn about their roots. 

The Length of a String Book Review

Just how far can our roots connect us to our past, how does our DNA shape us, and how far is the length of a string? In the book, The Length of a String, by Elissa Brent Weissman, we meet Imani, a Jewish girl who’s nearing her bat mitzvah. She knows what gift she wants: the chance to find her birth family. Living as a person of color in a predominantly white community is rough, and Imani wants answers to the questions she has about her birth parents.

When Imani’s grandmother dies, Imani and her brother Jaime are left all her books. While sorting through them, Imani finds an old journal, dating back to the Holocaust times. As she reads through the journal with her best friend Madeline, she finds out that her grandmother’s story is similar to her own and reevaluates what the word “family” truly means. 

I quickly found myself falling in love with this story and Imani. Many authors don’t understand that while adoption can bring up hard questions and be the spark for self-discovery, adoption isn’t by definition horrible and depressing. Author Weissman, in my opinion, accurately wrote Imani, who despite having a loving family, wants to know more about her roots, which I closely relate to. This story shows that there’s not always one right way to handle something, but there can be many wrong ways. Finding out who you are isn’t always easy, and what you think you want isn’t always what is needed. This is a book I would highly recommend for both adoptees and non-adoptees. Imani is a great, well-written character, the story is well developed, and the journey to self-discovery is one every person can relate to, even if they are not adopted.