Taekwondo Kid

I don't focus much on my cultural background. Having grown up in Canada at a time when most “non-white” families were looking to integrate rather than hang on too tightly to cultural roots, I consider myself more Canadian than anything else. We do partake in the big Chinese celebrations such as Chinese New Year, and honouring our ancestors every year, but even my own mother forgets sometimes that although I don’t speak a lot of Cantonese, I do happen to understand most of it.

My Dad never had a Chinese accent; if there was anything regional in his voice, it was more reminiscent of Quebecois accented English, as he grew up in Quebec. My mom’s accent is a combination of everywhere she’s been since she was a kid, so very hard to pinpoint, but you know she’s Asian.

Even when we were first dating, my husband didn’t know what my background was. I think it was on our third or fourth date when he asked “What ARE you anyway?” (Of course it didn’t come out the way it’s written, it was quite a bit funnier).

This isn’t to say that I don’t consider myself Chinese and that I haven’t experienced my own share of racism as a kid. Besides being bullied for being a skinny thing with high marks and bad teeth and acne, I’m sure some of it was racially motivated. "Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at ..." I could count the number of Asian kids in my public school with my two hands, and that included my younger sister. But I had hoped that this would have changed in today's Canada, where "Smith" is no longer the predominant name in the phone book.

So it sickens me to read of the recent goings-on in a community not far from where I live.

Long story not so short: a white kid utters a racial slur and punches a Korean kid in the mouth; the Korean kid, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, hits back in self-defence and busts the instigator's nose. The Korean boy, a top student, gets arrested and suspended, and sent a letter from the Principal, threatened with expulsion not only from the school but the ENTIRE SCHOOL DISTRICT. I think the other boy was suspended as well, but I’m not sure. The Vice Principal wonders why the Korean kid was so sensitive to being called “Chinese” (oops, what about the “f*cking” part??). The instigator's cousin, it is learned later, also hurled racial slurs at the Korean boy the day after the fight.

The student body rallies in protest over the suspension of the Korean boy, 400 kids demonstrating against the school administration, wanting to send the message that racism and intolerance is not cool. The mother of the Korean boy meets with the Vice Principal and suggests anti-racism be part of the school curriculum. The VP thinks it unnecessary as the topic is covered in “geography class”. The police have reopened the case as a possible hate crime, after the school demonstration. To be continued.

Are you enraged? Certainly at the racist kid and his family who are so stunningly caught in the backwoods with their attitudes. Not at the kids in the school, who totally get it. But what is with the “adults” in this situation? The school administration, who launched this expulsion nonsense and who I’m sure would have loved to have swept this under the table, were it not for the student protesters who are actually living the principles that are supposedly withheld in their school. I know there is "zero tolerance" for violence and rightly so in our schools, but to have one party punished so severely when the bully who started it skulks off silently the other way without any penalty (well, other than the damaged septum)? To be further investigated only after all the damage has been done to the initial injured party? What about zero tolerance for racial discrimination? Talk about being totally black and white and illogical in a situation that screamed shades of grey.

I've been hopeful that my kids are growing up in a world where race ceases to be such an issue. But perhaps I've just turned a blind eye. I just have to look at the recent election in the US to realize that - duh - while on the surface there seems to have been great strides made, it will never, ever go away. My kids are in a very multicultural school and if anything, being of mixed race, are an example of the future generations, symbolic of the meeting of cultures. To them, if someone's white, brown, black, yellow, green, red... it doesn't matter. It's stories like these that illlustrate the often hostile environment that they are growing up in, that concerns me.

What do you think the chances are that this was far from an isolated incident for this boy? This doesn't happen overnight. There's a limit to how many times you can walk away. Much talk and commentary about this story has voiced that the race card is being tossed in again as convenient, to make it an even bigger issue than it really is. However, that is indeed what started it, and the issue of racial discrimination IS a huge one.

I suppose I should be a good Mom and say that retaliation in this form is never the way to go. But honestly, in looking back at my childhood, if I had the extra minutes in my already jammed extracurricular schedule, it may not have been a bad thing for Mom to have included martial arts in the mix. There were several kids I knew growing up who deserved a good lesson or two.

Being the nice, quiet, studious Asian who will just keep taking it and not do a thing is a stereotype that has long run its course.

Good on ya, kid.

(Edited to add: as my blog pal Cid has indicated, apparently the expulsion letter was sent in ERROR. I don't know if that makes the situation any better, or even worse...)

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!!

A glorious Canada Day to all my fellow Canadians!!!

Whoot!

Vive la Montreal and St. Laurent Street Fashion

Last weekend we travelled to Montreal by train for our yearly reunion/ pilgrimage up to Mount Royal cemetary. Only this time it was a little more fun because we were joined by my cutie nieces (and their parents and MY parents; but the kids are so much cuter than the adults and will be displayed prominently here:)

My rugrats entertaining cousin J:

Cuddling versus fighting (always a good thing)

So this is my grandparents' gravesite. We've been coming here (almost) every year since I was born. Candles were lit; fresh flowers were planted, and if you look closely at the bottom right of the photo, you can see the lovely spread that was set out for the "meal". Chicken, dim sum yummies, butter rolls that you can only buy in Montreal (at least as far as I know).


Here's a better picture of the feast. Symbolic paper money and pyjamas were burned as an offering to the grandparents (see lower left corner). They have to be dressed in their finest, don't you know. I am sure they're proud of their granddaughter.

You'll notice everything is in "3's" - a good luck number in Chinese. And yes, there is booze there (although I did not imbibe; it's poured into the earth for my grandparents).


We had a lovely dinner with whichever cousins could make it that evening. My cousins in Montreal are a little older than I am (their kids are in university or working; there are at least 10 years between my father and his siblings on either side which makes for interesting generational dynamics).

The next day, we headed out for a walk along St. Laurent and Prince Arthur. It was such a lovely summer day, and while the boy went off with his Dad to check out a video game tent, my sister and I (and her husband) did more walking. Luckily for me, the girlie's uncle kept her entertained with the face-painting and balloons available for the kids...



Because there was shopping to be had. Check what I found in the 3 for $10 bin:


And if I get sick of the belt, I can always use it as a macrame plantholder (according to my brother-in-law).

So that steal left me with change to pick up this...



...and these funky tube tops. (I have nothing to hold them up with, but they're pretty anyway.)

We had a fairly uneventful train ride home that evening (well, except for when the girlie got so busy playing with her cousins that she forgot to tell us that she had to go pee until it was too late. Big brother got a nice shower on his Globo shoes).

And my old ovaries were screaming...

But, no, I'll be leaving the business of babymaking to my siblings from here on in!

Ancient Chinese Secret?

One thing about infertility is that it is completely non-discriminating. It affects men and women, regardless of race, religion, geography... across the board. What is interesting is the cultural aspect. Infertility is still often seen as a taboo subject; and the lack of understanding and pure ignorance can sometimes be exacerbated by cultural pressures and expectations.

Grandchildren are a huge deal in most cultures, and Chinese is no exception. And I suppose the lack of any at the time, even if it wasn't by choice, was a cause of great concern for my parents.

Frustrated with the lack of progress on the “Western” medicine front, I let my mother convince me to see a Chinese doctor, a specialist in Chinese herbs and medicine. A friend of a friend’s daughter was in her late 30s, not having any luck for years, but after she saw this doctor and got the special soup, presto, she got pregnant.


I was skeptical. I suppose it came from so many years of schooling in science, and then working in the drug industry. What ingredients were in all these concoctions? Hey, where were the double-blind, controlled clinical studies performed to show that that EXACT dose of dried frog testicle mixed with bat wing could actually increase our chances of having a baby? My mom only got me there because a) this doctor actually also had a medical degree from the US. So a doctor trained on both sides of the ocean. Bonus. And b) infertility can lead to desperate measures.

I brought both my parents with me, my Mom to translate in case needed, and my father, because he comes part and parcel with my mother, ever since their retirement. And Mom is the one with the special Chinese pot that she would use to cook up whatever soup needed to be prepared. What is it about Chinese Moms and their soups? Dark, murky, stenchy soups? I was just happy that it wouldn’t be stinking up my place.


Turns out that according to the doctor (at least at the time), Chinese medicines are actually more effective if the fertility issues lie with the male. He felt that I should continue on the standard protocol prescribed by my “Western” doctor, as from what I told him the tests showed that we were both “normal”. Nevertheless, he prescribed a mixture of various herbs in a paper bag, and gave written instructions to my mother as to how to boil it up. It was just a general health soup that both Ian and I could drink. Increase the general health, increase the chances of conceiving. While we were there, Mom also bought some stuff for her and my Dad. I swear I saw desiccated beetle legs sticking out from their purchase.

Leaving the herbal shop, we walked back into the Chinese mall toward the elevator. My mother was happy that I had finally gone to this doctor with her. She began chatting with me about her own struggles trying to have the elusive son for my Dad. There are almost 12 years between me and my younger brother, but my mom hadn’t to this point shared any of her experiences with me. Yet.

The elevator door opened and the three of us got in. A tiny elevator. And I was squished between the folks.

Mom: ” Your father wanted a son so badly, you would not believe …”

Dad: Silence

Mom: ” … the things that we did … the things that we tried and tried ...”

Dad cleared his throat. Shuffled his feet a bit, looking down.

Mom: “I did headstands, if you want a boy you ...blah blah positions …”

Me: “Uh, okay MOM STOP -- I get it!!”

Oh, the things we’ll do for a baby.

Someday...




*disclaimer: I know of people who have been successfully treated with Chinese medicine, acupuncture etc. This is not intended to be an endorsement nor a criticism of this option for infertility treatment. Just my own story, folks. And unfortunately, no, it wasn't a miracle soup for us.

(Images from martialartsgear.com and stock.xchng)

Wordless Wednesday

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR

Broken Chi/Fre-nglish

In preparation for the Chinese New Year supper my parents hosted this past weekend, my folks and I planned a trip to Costco at the end of last week. They have this pre-marinated pork roast that my mom wanted to try. At this point of their lives (and ours, with all of the siblings now parents of young children), the less complicated the dinner, the better.

We thought we would go for some dim sum lunch before our trip to the warehouse. After G's preschool program in the morning, we went to a local Chinese restaurant, where my parents go at least once a week. We were greeted warmly by the manager and all the servers, as my parents are well known regulars. Of course, this was all in Cantonese.

As I'm not with them very often, my mother introduced me to everyone who came up, proudly showing off her little granddaughter. And a few of them would look at G and say "Mixed? Look at those big eyes!". My mother would respond, "Yes, but my daughter also has big eyes. Look at them." And others would be "Oh, but your daughter looks like she could be mixed too." My mother "Well, no, she's not." Dad's just sitting there, smiling, but not saying anything. And me, no I'm not saying anything either. Because I'm not that comfortable speaking Cantonese, even though I pretty much understand everything that's being said.

Which my mother apparently forgets. She continues her conversation, bragging about all of my accomplishments as if I'm not there. You know, that the eldest daughter is currently at home but started her own consulting business, oh and she did get a degree at U of T, and then got another three letters from business school, yes a very smart girl. Did you know that she also did very well at piano and she excelled in ballet (ok, last time I did any ballet was perhaps about 30 years ago!!) Eldest daughter's husband does a lot of travelling so it makes sense that she's home now with the kids... and the grandson is very smart and doing well now too.

And when people ask whether G speaks Chinese, Mom says that she doesn't. After all, her own kids don't even speak because their father has spoken to all his kids only in English while growing up. All Dad's fault.

During these episodes I've learned just to smile, and respond in English, whenever I can get a word in edgewise. I love my mother, she's one of the kindest-hearted, generous people I know. But this is one thing about her that I find annoying... she's likes to brag. About any little thing.

While this discussion is continuing about language skills, or lack thereof, my little girl decides to pipe up. She starts mumbling a little bit, and then saying quite loudly to our server ... "Bon Joo, Bon joo, BON JOO!!!".

I try to figure out what she's saying, and then it dawns on me. She's saying "Bonjour". Let's throw a little French into the conversation. I thought I was confused before, but I suppose this is what happens in Canada, where there are two official languages, and a multitude of cultures.

*******

When Ian and I decided to have children, we had an understanding that we would expose them to as much Chinese culture as we could. We think it's important that they know their heritage.

Although my father had come over quite young, I was part of the first generation of our family actually born here. And I grew up during a time when, while not really denying my heritage, we made more effort to embrace what was more of an anglo-Canadian way of life. My father was actually very much like that himself. I think I was just more a product of what was happening in the country at the time. I was usually the only, or one of two Chinese kids in my class while living in the burbs. It wasn't until high school that more kids were coming into our schools from Hong Kong.

Nowadays, you can live, work, get a driver's license, do pretty much anything without speaking a word of English.

With the language, we did attempt to keep L in the Cantonese weekend program a couple of years ago. But it was very difficult to cultivate that, as the way of teaching is very much rote, pure memorization (there's no alphabet), old school, dry and boring. And with me not very confident with the language myself, and L just becoming progressively more stressed and miserable about classes every week, we pulled him out. We have to give him kudos for getting through at least one year, his teacher said he really tried hard, but he was certainly at a disadvantage without having stronger backup at home. Having gone through several years of Chinese instruction myself as a kid, and miserably (how much do I remember now?!) I couldn't subject my son to that.

For now we're at least trying to keep up with as many of the traditions as a family, with my parents, siblings and relatives. Chinese New Year being one of the most important of them. The kids at least are quite responsive to that.

*****

While we were busy getting ready to go to the grandparents' for the big feast, to spend some fun time with uncles, aunts and the babies, G was excitedly chattering about the reason for the party.

"I'm Chinese, Goh goh (ie. big brother L) is Chinese, you're Chinese, Mommy" and looking at her father she continued ..."and Daddy's just plain!"

(By George, I think she's got it!)

Well, at least she didn't call him boring!

Let's get cultured...

My son's first big project of the year is to put together an "All about my family" box, with pictures, mementos, and articles that represent his family, culture, traditions celebrated and his ancestry. I am so stressed. I really don't want to be one of those parents that actually DOES the project for their child. I'm trying so hard not to be.

Admittedly we're finding my heritage, with my Chinese background, to be a bit easier to represent in this project. We don't celebrate all the traditions, and I grew up very Canadian, but there are several activities that we participate in that are just so ingrained. A few that I've already blogged about.

The more difficult part is trying to find representation from his Dad's side, which is Canadian from a few generations back, with German and Scottish along the way. We don't really celebrate any uniquely German or Scottish customs. There are many traditions that we adhere to, but what really is Canadian culture? What's most distinct about Canada is really how young the country is. And that people come from all over the world, and are fighting to come here, to experience the freedom to celebrate their culture and traditions in this country.

With my brain hurting, after Giselle and I made our way to pick Liam up from school, and ultimately left with only his backpack (remember, Liamster, the serial playdate playmate - took off with his one of his best buddies), I decided to head to the library to try to find inspiration.

So this is what we'll be studying this weekend...





There's got to be some German/Scottish content somewhere in there, right?

Cutie Celebration

This weekend was a very important milestone in our family. A Chinese tradition dating from ancient times, the family celebrates after a baby reaches its one month birthday. Such a milestone likely made sense way back when, when it was indeed cause for celebration for any baby to survive that long out of the womb. In addition, before the one month mark, the woman and the baby are in self-imposed "hibernation" before the official unveiling. I've heard traditions where the mother isn't supposed to bathe or wash her hair the entire time. Ick. Thank goodness my family isn't strictly traditional.Although my sister and sister in law (and myself) didn't adhere to that, we did have to deal with an onslaught of soup from dear Mom.

In the "olden days" (don't ya just love it, my terminology screams "mom of 2 kids"), this "coming out" was celebrated by the newborn's family by sending out gifts of red eggs and ginger, for good luck. Nowadays, there's a 10 course Chinese banquet with a celebration along the lines of a traditional Chinese wedding banquet. In other words, a big party with tons of food, and tons of gifts and red envelopes (hung bow) full of lucky money for the baby. And lots of "friends of the family" (ie. Grandma and Grandpa's circle) that you don't even know that well. Or as I call them, the "village people", and they've never stepped foot in the YMCA.

Now with two new baby girls in the family, born less than 24 hours apart, it only made sense to have this celebration (or "Moon Yuet" ) as a joint banquet. Although they're now two months old, today's rules allow for the banquet to happen between one and three months of age. What a special party it was, and the girls were really well-behaved, just little angels really, the whole time. The party lasted over 3 hours, and they were awake for much of the time. Real troopers, those girls, even though they were obviously over-tired, and there was some crying as expected, it went really well.



And my kids had a great time, as it was a totally kid-centric event. There were probably just as many children as adults there. Which made it a real party indeed.

Although we had a banquet for L when he was born, we didn't do so when our little G came along. For one thing, she was born just before Christmas, and we didn't want to have a big party for her in the midst of a freezing Ontario winter; she was a bit of a fussy baby; scheduling would have been a nightmare given Ian's travel for work, and to be honest, I felt that we'd already had our fair share of gifts and cash from friends and family for our first baby. Having another banquet seemed too much of a cash grab for me; not that I have anything against any parents that celebrate each and every new baby in this lavish fashion, this is just what felt right for us. It was a miracle gift that we were lucky enough to be blessed with another baby at all.

So we dressed our kids up for this party, as my parents still wanted to show off their older grandkids to all their friends. And my tykes didn't disappoint, especially little G. She loves a party, and especially a party dress.

Hamming it up with Grandpa!

Born a diva; always a diva :)

"I'm Chinese"

Lately, the little one has taken to introducing herself to anyone she meets as "G-zoh. I'm Chinese." I have no idea where she got that from (or maybe I do...remember, we did spend over a week at the grandparents' place. Mom's never been too subliminal with her messages.)

I don't think she really knows what she means. The way she's saying it, it's almost as if she's declaring, "Hi my name is G and I'm smart".
Ask her "Is Daddy Chinese?" - "NO!".
"Is Goh Goh (big brother) Chinese?" - "NO!".
"Is Mommy Chinese?" "NO!".
One and a half out of three ain't too bad!

We've never specifically talked culture with her, always figuring she's been a bit young, and that she would absorb a lot of it by osmosis, just by participating in any traditions that we still adhere to. Haven't really done so with her big brother either, although our attempts to get him to take more than one year of Chinese language school were in vain. It was stressful for him, primarily because for the year end play he didn't get a speaking part - he was just a tree in the back. Honestly, I wouldn't have gone back to Chinese school either if they had made me act as vegetation.

Whatever the source of this latest and greatest, I find it quite refreshing that she proclaims this so proudly. It should make it easier for her to appreciate any cultural traditions that we'll expose her to as she gets older. She already loves the noodles, so we're off on the right foot.

Aren't those dolls cute? My sister got them, the Asian mother, son and daughter, for G's 2nd Christmas after the doll house they gave her for her 2nd birthday. The next present will include the Caucasian father LOL! Even funnier is that the son has dreadlocks, much like the look my boy was trying for this summer :)