Rana pulled me aside the other day and told me, I understand your culture now. I understand your decision
.
She elaborated on a woman at work who had sent her daughter to live in China. It was soon after the baby was born, and the grandmother assumed responsibility of parent. The mother never went to visit, only sending money for her upbringing.
That day, the grandmother and granddaughter came to work, having flown into Canada to visit. No one at work had seen the child, two years old now. The whole time, she was nervous and shy, clutching the leg of her grandmother. When the mother tried to hold her, she wouldn’t budge, only crying the raucous, uncontrolled, uninhibited tears of a child.
Rana told me this with surprise and confusion in her face. It was hard for her to believe that anyone could do this to their baby. I wish I could say that I was surprised.
I’ve always confided in Rana about my own relationship with my parents. She’s one of the few who really care, asking me if there’s been any news on a regular basis, especially since I cut all ties. We never argue, but she’s never fully agreed with me. She always tried to give me a maternal perspective, being a mother of three herself. I’ve admitted that I don’t understand what it means to be a parent, but that day, she realized that she never understood what it means to be a child of the Chinese culture.
It’s cold. It’s material. Most Chinese parents can only express their love with money.
In this way, my parents showed me that they loved me. They probably think they did the best they could, but as a child of the North American culture, I felt nothing. I never knew what it was to be loved.
And Rana said, You were the one who rebelled against this
.
One of my roommates 2 years ago described something similar to me. He was always vaguely referring to being sent to China for the summer if his grades dropped. I liked to think he was joking, but he said it happened to his cousin. I imagine it’s hard when parents and children are from two different cultures and don’t really know each other enough to provide any other connection other than living arrangements.
You, your generation level, might be the first that really “gets” love, because yours is the first where affluence is not only achievable but assured. Your life is superfluous to actually sustaining anyone in your family (not how it used to be).
My experience of 15 years of living with 2 Chinese families (as a white attachment) is that lower class Chinese show much more love to to their children than upper class Chinese. But either way, sons have a heavy burden, both in being loved or not, in expectations to perform in the manner accepted by the parents, and only in that manner will you be rewarded. Parents figure their generation did it; now it’s your turn. Daughters are either left in the dust or pushed to become beauty queen scholars and marry wealth.
But even in my experience, your particular situation is harsh. My Chinese friends have made peace with their parents, but they still don’t relate to them much. Of course that’s after one fled home at an early age, and the other nearly beat up his mom before she got the point that he was independent.
I can see that in my best girlfriend’s family too..
buying love, or tokens there of.
ultimately you gotta do what supports YOU, because nothing else makes sense…unless you live ‘for’ someone else and their hapiness.
trying to live your life to make yourself happy, is NOT selfish,
it shows maturity.
Because if WE are happy, then we can infect the world…
but if we live to create happiness in others..
it’s a hollow existence
Its about healing over the generations…
no matter where they hail from.
I’m glad your collegue was able to gain some perspective,
and thereby become more supportive of you.
and
least that lil girl has her grandmother’s love
at that age she wouldnt even know the difference.
cheers,
from the best place on earth!
@Reno — I always hoped that love was universal, something that worked cross culture. Maybe it’s just defined differently in each one. It may have been as hard for my parents as it was for me, but I really don’t know. I did my best to be the “good son”, and they seemed pretty satisfied. It made me feel like a trophy though.
@Xibee — I’ve never thought about the fact that affluence, or stability as the way I see it, is assured for my generation. I’m guessing that most parents try to provide for their kids everything that they didn’t have, and in my experience this is true, even for Chinese people. Of course, I also used to joke that kids were a very long term investement for the Chinese.
There’s an inspirational non-fiction book I’ve been reading called From Me To We, where two brothers travel the world for charitable organizations, and going from one end of the economic spectrum to the other, they realize that the poorest people are also the most happy. Maybe there’s something about the pursuit of money, where the kids are left behind. At one point I could go a whole week without seeing my dad, just because he was moonlighting and worked long hours.
You’re right about the sons having the biggest burden. I happen to be the oldest son, an only child, and second-only male for my generation. This probably compounded the pressure somewhat significantly.
I always thought that I would make my peace one day (in fact, I thought I reached it at one point), but not anymore. Things have simply gone too far. It’s unfortunate, but it’s not worth the potential pain.
@Amy — You’re right, Amy. Prostrating myself for my parents, putting all my feelings aside, has only made me bitter and resentful. It still affects me to this day. I can’t speak of certain experiences in my childhood without breaking down. It’s time to forget all that. I’ve lived my life for my parents since I was born, but it’s time to live for myself.
The good side is that even though this has ruined any meaning of a “blood bond”, it’s strengthened other relationships. My friends are my family now.
As always, I’m just glad you have friends and colleagues around who support you and try to understand. I suppose it’s still hard for me to “get it”, because while my mother has always been there for me, I see her greatest sacrifice was working like a dog to give us kids everything we needed. I know how unhappy that made her and how unhappy it would have made me but she did it just the same. I guess it’s vastly different because she gave me everything she could that I needed (emotional and financial). There are always gaps that can’t be bridged between generations but she tried *really* hard. As for the cultural thing, I’ll probably never understand that, even though I spent most of my teenage years in suburbs and schools dominated by asian families (of course, it’s probably wrong to lump all of Asia together as well). It’s also fantastic that you can use your blog to help sort out your feelings and share them with all of us. Thanks Jeff.
Yours is the most stunningly beautiful blog I’ve come across in years. I’m so glad you’re listed in OttawaStart. I’ve read months of your posts today (like a gourmand at a gourmet meal) and your articulateness, video, music, photography and willingness to express yourself leave me at risk of being unseemingly effusive.
And so far as what you actually said here, so far as divorcing the family, sometimes relationships reach that point. We believe we can leave friends or spouses or God but parents are exempt somehow?
@Bean — My parents generally did try very hard to make sure they had money, but it wasn’t so much of a sacrifice for them as a drive for more, like a thirst or greed. I know that part of it was to make sure that I was settled financially, and for this I’m grateful, but I do believe that if they tried as hard on the emotional end, I wouldn’t feel such acrimony.
@Pearl — Thanks for your generously kind comment. You’re absolutely right about divorcing families, something I’ve never realized. Since they’ve just divorced, it would be pretty hypocritical for them to judge me on never wanting to deal with them again.