Building Bridges
by Edmond Fu and Cindy Wang, Special Contributors

In first grade, I distinctly remember being taunted by my classmates about my Asian appearance. They jeered, "Your eyes look funny, they're slanted upwards." I remember having a feeling in my stomach, the strange aversion I began to hold towards my image in the mirror, to my parents, to my entire Chinese culture. However trivial that comment may seem, it added up over my childhood. I took them to heart and eventually they became one of the main reasons I came to resent my Asian culture and identity.

I am from the typical suburban town in New Jersey, which means Asian people are few and far between. My graduating class of 122 had only five Asians, including myself. It wasn't hard for me to forget my Asian heritage, perhaps intentionally or perhaps just from being surrounded by non-Asians. I stayed as far away as possible from the other Asian students because I thought they were the epitome of being "uncool." I listened to grunge music and took up skateboarding, which were popular at the time. I also followed sports like all my friends did, and read as much American literature as I could possibly get my hands on, so as to ignore as many aspects of my "Chinese-ness" as I could. I knew my parents frowned upon my dislike of my culture; after all what parent would like seeing their child shun his family or his heritage? Regardless of their opinion, I refused to go to Chinese school because I lacked any interest to learn about my culture. I especially dreaded family dinners and going to Chinese restaurants with family friends because that meant coming into contact with Chinese people. Soon, I found myself being discontent with my parents because they weren't "American" like everyone else's parents.

However, during my sophomore and junior years of high school, my perspective changed. My love of literature evolved and eventually included works by Japanese and Asian American authors. I realized that I was not alone in my quest to find an identity, and that being Asian wasn't so bad after all. The works of authors such as "Gish Jen" were a great influence. Many other Asian Americans had gone through similar identity crises and found a balance between American and Asian cultures, so why couldn't I? My eyes were opened to the opportunities that being a member of the Asian community offered. I regretted not going to Chinese school because I was unable to communicate with my own relatives who were an integral part of my heritage, not to mention were fountains of knowledge. I was angry with my parents for not immersing me more in my culture, however foolish that may sound because I was the one who had built the brick wall against any attempt on their part to educate me in my Chinese culture. I resolved to break down that wall and learn more about Chinese culture - I wanted to take Chinese language classes in college and take classes about Asian history to learn more about my roots. As I wrote in my college essay, I wanted to "find a satisfactory balance between American and Chinese culture."

Coming to NYU was like an awakening for me. For the first time, I wanted to relate to all those people who had come from similar backgrounds to mine. I think it is safe to say that all of them have gone through similar identity crises as well. As I started meeting other Asians, I sought to assimilate myself with Asian American culture. Since this was my first attempt to really come to terms with my Asian culture, I didn't know where to start. So I took the easy way - I mimicked the actions of my peers. I began to do what I thought was "Asian" at the time - listening to trance music, showing interest in import cars, and dying my hair. I admit, finally feeling "Asian" was wonderful and refreshing, but it was only a fleeting emotion as I came to realize that I'd only incorporated someone else's definition of being Asian, thus negating the whole goal of finding my own Asian identity. I strove to find my own meaning.

I took Modern China during the first semester of my freshmen year. As I learned about important Chinese figures, the Dynasties, Communism, and the gradual integration of Democracy, I was better able to comprehend the basic elements of Chinese politics. I began to learn Mandarin second semester. Doing these two things helped me keep myself in check. By diversifying my knowledge into other areas of my Asian culture besides the aspects in my immediate surroundings, I started to realize that being Asian did not mean being exactly like other Asian Americans. The fact that we were all first generation Americans was a common bond, but often the mutual similarities stopped here. Our parents probably have instilled in us similar doctrines of filial piety and resourcefulness, but like all cultures, Asian American culture has many facets to which different people can relate.

Although I cannot say that I've truly balanced both my American half and my Asian half, I can say that I am happy in trying to find that balance. Everyday I learn something new about my heritage, whether it is from the amazing Mandarin language or a new food that satisfies my palate. I have learned to appreciate the fact that I am a bridge between two cultures, that there are many people around me going through the same situation, and that I should strive in my life to strengthen it so that I may one day pass my heritage on to my progeny. I have not necessarily found the universal answer to identity crises, but for me, being truly Asian meant finding my niche.