Reflections of US
Time has slowed down big time for me, here at on the Amrita campus, which is set in a lush valley under gaze of the 8 mountains (hence the name of the place, Ettimadai), including a mighty sleeping elephant. But it's still a campus, and I'm not studying.
So I've been roaming and rambling and following my footsteps wandering/wondering what the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts are supposed to mean. When we first learned that song way back in kindergarten, I was always puzzled by the pronoun 'her'. Funny, only thinking about it now do I realize that I never finished that thought process to understand it was meant to be Motherland. Huh?
Point of my ramblings is that I've been reflecting some more on US and this concept of Motherland. It comes up a lot, because one of the most commonly asked questions here when it's obvious you're not from around is, "where's your country?" uh... i dunno WHERE it is, frankly, but I'm from the US. The locals are usually surprised, they assume I'm Japanese or Korean. A few may guess Chinese. They usually follow it up, affectionately, with "Where were you from before that?" or "What is your motherland?" I appreciate that they ask because right now, I'm in a place of embracing my Asianness, where some years back, I would have been defensive. I can't use the ethnic studies approach of "I'm Chinese-Vietnamese American." But the exercize of spelling everything out has been educational for me, and leads me to tell stories. I'm living in America, have been since I was 6. I was born inVietnam, as were my parents, and what is that jade pendant of Guanyin doing around my neck? Yes, my grandparents are from China. No, I speak mostly English, am trying to improve my Vietnamese, wish I could speak better Chinese. I conclude, for the most part, I'm culturally American. But my heart is Asian.
One night I had a bizarre dream in which there were several camps, each repesented by nation. And a few characters were wondering where my loyalties were and I didn't know. The "naturalization" test to become US citizen demands much more trivia about US government than the average natural-born American would know. But that still doesn't mean I have affection for the nation necessarily. I do for my community, the lovely bay area, Cali. Then again, does anyone really KNOW what it means to be part of the (United?) States? I remember one thesis that Maxine Hong Kingston had brought up in her film (forget the name) was that Americans are always lost and always wandering. William Carlos Williams also explores this in In the American Grain. But, really, I don't mean for this to become an essay too much, just reflections.
Hmmmm... The point of this is that one of the many reasons I had for coming here was to leave the US and get a perspective. A lot of you who talked to me probably remember all my anger & bitterness before I left. It's only natural, I think, when you're conscious and (big emphais) you get overstimulated. Cynicism is like scratching a mosquito bite (the metaphor comes to mind because I've been getting a lot of those); the abrasiveness of our reaction is good immediate relief, yet does little to solve the problem in the long run. This I needed some space to see. Plus, I've needed some space to stop reacting. Also, this confusion about loyalties is only a natural part of the process for an Asian woman who grew up in the west and goes back to Asia. My trip to Vietnam 3 years ago was a catalyst for this process, but as I was telling Ajai, a kindred roaming spirit, yesterday during a very interesting conversation about growing up bi-cultural, the questioning and anguish does continue. Despite my enthusiasm to embrace Asia, there are times when I am humbled by the realization of just how western I am.
But I do have to say that it's wonderful to be here for the simple fact of being in Asia. Somtiems, I get so tired of imagining. Plus, it's nice to just be, instead of always having an identity complex. (I don't mean this in a critcal way, because of course it's natural for bi-cultural children to have complexes. And we come up with such creative ways to get by). Anway, I feel every Asian who's grown up in the west should come to Asia. It's just a very easy, light-hearted tonic for the anger, frustration, alienation that comes with our experience. And of course this goes for anyone who's feeling torn between homelands, even slightly.
I read in The Hindu today, is that India is allowing dual citizenship for all overseas who are of Indian origin. That's great, I thought. It's so expressive of a desire to open up. And that 's one way of keeping loyalties, keeping a connection to the motherland, and perserving the culture to an extent. It's exactly the opposite of the US's modus operandi at the moment, what with deporting the very people who bring culture to a land already plagued with a cultural barrenness and cursed soil, having not reconciled or even apologized for the genocide of the Native Americans and the enslavement of Africans, for one thing. I don't mean to say that white Americans don't have a culture -- indeed, they did. What I'm point at is the detrimental attitude that everyone ought to immediately throw out their culture when they get to the US and don the ambiguous, ambivalent identity of "American." Didn't European immigrants earlier, change their names to more rounded ones, prohibit their children from speaking Greek, Russian, Polish, what have you, dress them in clothes that were more new world? That is the sad barrenness that I'm talking about.
Was listening to some Lila Downs the other night. And the chorus from her cover of "This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land" ask again and again, "When did you come to America?" To me it points to this question of nationality in terms of immigration. Why do we get so adamant about keeping people out when we all have come here/gone there (some willingly, some not) and have brought something to the table? See, I want to end by saying that I'm not being anti-American or America-bashing, but to see what role we can play in the world and what kinds of positive potentials we have (rather than the destructive ones). We need to ask, in addition to "when", "why did you come to America?" It would be useful to ask ourselves. As much as my loyalties are torn, I see that one of the beautiful things in the US is the variety of experiences that come there, and the creative ways we've come up with to respond to angst. Isn't an attitude of acceptance and inclusivess, and a role as a fertile ground for lots of seeds of cultures, histories, thoughts, the best way to start undoing the immensely bad karma reaped there?
Again, just some reflections.
So I've been roaming and rambling and following my footsteps wandering/wondering what the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts are supposed to mean. When we first learned that song way back in kindergarten, I was always puzzled by the pronoun 'her'. Funny, only thinking about it now do I realize that I never finished that thought process to understand it was meant to be Motherland. Huh?
Point of my ramblings is that I've been reflecting some more on US and this concept of Motherland. It comes up a lot, because one of the most commonly asked questions here when it's obvious you're not from around is, "where's your country?" uh... i dunno WHERE it is, frankly, but I'm from the US. The locals are usually surprised, they assume I'm Japanese or Korean. A few may guess Chinese. They usually follow it up, affectionately, with "Where were you from before that?" or "What is your motherland?" I appreciate that they ask because right now, I'm in a place of embracing my Asianness, where some years back, I would have been defensive. I can't use the ethnic studies approach of "I'm Chinese-Vietnamese American." But the exercize of spelling everything out has been educational for me, and leads me to tell stories. I'm living in America, have been since I was 6. I was born inVietnam, as were my parents, and what is that jade pendant of Guanyin doing around my neck? Yes, my grandparents are from China. No, I speak mostly English, am trying to improve my Vietnamese, wish I could speak better Chinese. I conclude, for the most part, I'm culturally American. But my heart is Asian.
One night I had a bizarre dream in which there were several camps, each repesented by nation. And a few characters were wondering where my loyalties were and I didn't know. The "naturalization" test to become US citizen demands much more trivia about US government than the average natural-born American would know. But that still doesn't mean I have affection for the nation necessarily. I do for my community, the lovely bay area, Cali. Then again, does anyone really KNOW what it means to be part of the (United?) States? I remember one thesis that Maxine Hong Kingston had brought up in her film (forget the name) was that Americans are always lost and always wandering. William Carlos Williams also explores this in In the American Grain. But, really, I don't mean for this to become an essay too much, just reflections.
Hmmmm... The point of this is that one of the many reasons I had for coming here was to leave the US and get a perspective. A lot of you who talked to me probably remember all my anger & bitterness before I left. It's only natural, I think, when you're conscious and (big emphais) you get overstimulated. Cynicism is like scratching a mosquito bite (the metaphor comes to mind because I've been getting a lot of those); the abrasiveness of our reaction is good immediate relief, yet does little to solve the problem in the long run. This I needed some space to see. Plus, I've needed some space to stop reacting. Also, this confusion about loyalties is only a natural part of the process for an Asian woman who grew up in the west and goes back to Asia. My trip to Vietnam 3 years ago was a catalyst for this process, but as I was telling Ajai, a kindred roaming spirit, yesterday during a very interesting conversation about growing up bi-cultural, the questioning and anguish does continue. Despite my enthusiasm to embrace Asia, there are times when I am humbled by the realization of just how western I am.
But I do have to say that it's wonderful to be here for the simple fact of being in Asia. Somtiems, I get so tired of imagining. Plus, it's nice to just be, instead of always having an identity complex. (I don't mean this in a critcal way, because of course it's natural for bi-cultural children to have complexes. And we come up with such creative ways to get by). Anway, I feel every Asian who's grown up in the west should come to Asia. It's just a very easy, light-hearted tonic for the anger, frustration, alienation that comes with our experience. And of course this goes for anyone who's feeling torn between homelands, even slightly.
I read in The Hindu today, is that India is allowing dual citizenship for all overseas who are of Indian origin. That's great, I thought. It's so expressive of a desire to open up. And that 's one way of keeping loyalties, keeping a connection to the motherland, and perserving the culture to an extent. It's exactly the opposite of the US's modus operandi at the moment, what with deporting the very people who bring culture to a land already plagued with a cultural barrenness and cursed soil, having not reconciled or even apologized for the genocide of the Native Americans and the enslavement of Africans, for one thing. I don't mean to say that white Americans don't have a culture -- indeed, they did. What I'm point at is the detrimental attitude that everyone ought to immediately throw out their culture when they get to the US and don the ambiguous, ambivalent identity of "American." Didn't European immigrants earlier, change their names to more rounded ones, prohibit their children from speaking Greek, Russian, Polish, what have you, dress them in clothes that were more new world? That is the sad barrenness that I'm talking about.
Was listening to some Lila Downs the other night. And the chorus from her cover of "This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land" ask again and again, "When did you come to America?" To me it points to this question of nationality in terms of immigration. Why do we get so adamant about keeping people out when we all have come here/gone there (some willingly, some not) and have brought something to the table? See, I want to end by saying that I'm not being anti-American or America-bashing, but to see what role we can play in the world and what kinds of positive potentials we have (rather than the destructive ones). We need to ask, in addition to "when", "why did you come to America?" It would be useful to ask ourselves. As much as my loyalties are torn, I see that one of the beautiful things in the US is the variety of experiences that come there, and the creative ways we've come up with to respond to angst. Isn't an attitude of acceptance and inclusivess, and a role as a fertile ground for lots of seeds of cultures, histories, thoughts, the best way to start undoing the immensely bad karma reaped there?
Again, just some reflections.
posted by sylviashines at 1:12 AM
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