Asian Adoptees are often told that we are not Asian enough, but there is no standard or gate keeping to ones Asian-ness. This sentiment is comforting, as my relationship with being Asian, specifically Vietnamese, has been complicated over the years.
I have a lot of stereotypical “Asian” hobbies. I grew up liking k-pop, k-dramas, and anime from a young age but felt embarrassed by these things because they were “too Asian.” During high school, a part of owning up to being Asian was owning up to liking these with confidence, no matter what other people had to say about it. Looking back on these things, I wonder why I felt so ashamed in the first place.
The second layer is complicated because I am adopted. I felt equally embarrassed about this when meeting new people, because I feel like it opens up too many questions. It also made me feel excluded from other Asian people and connecting with them. But this also doesn’t matter. If someone thinks I am not Asian enough or doesn’t like me because I’m adopted (as if I have a choice in being adopted or not) then that is their problem. I feel fortunate that I’ve been able to have a supportive friend group who likes me because of me, and not because I am too Asian or not Asian enough. Because I am adopted, I have been called “basically white,” on many occasions; which could not be farther from the truth. Sure, I may be disconnected from first hand cultural experiences but this does not, nor will it ever make me, white. Not that being white is a bad thing, but comments like these are harmful to my identity as a Vietnamese American, and are just not true. My dad doesn’t even think of me in this way, he sees me as Vietnamese American, but that doesn’t make me less of being his daughter.
I feel like I’ve further complicated things by studying Chinese. Chinese is one of my majors in university, and has only led to more confusion. I would often get mistaken for a Chinese International student on campus (which confused me because I would say I look very Vietnamese) but knowing how to respond to people makes it more confusing. “Oh you think I’m Chinese? Well I’m not but let me speak Chinese back to you.” It’s also kind of an excuse for having bad Chinese, which is nice I guess. But it makes me feel like I’m taking up space in a place I shouldn’t. I have Chinese adoptee friends who would love to learn Chinese, but they do not have the time or resources to do so. And here I am, with an almost completed Chinese BA degree connecting with my international friends and talking about Chinese and Korean dramas with them. At some points, it makes me feel closer to my Chinese name because so many people only know me by that name, and my professors call me (and scold me) using that name.
Yet, a part of me resented knowing all of this. I’m Vietnamese, someone whose culture has many roots in the Sinosphere, but should maybe feel resentment towards China. At one point, when I dated another Vietnamese American person, he would tell me how much his parents hated China… and his family was half Chinese. But I’m not one for stereotypes, so having so much knowledge of China helps me in understanding Vietnamese culture and history.
It’s also complicated feeling American, because I don’t sometimes. In order for me to even be typing this right now, my biological grandparents had to survive the Vietnam war. A war that was led by American self interest, a war that was seen as a “failure” since it did not fit into total warfare standards. A war that took so many innocent lives, and no one seems to care that it happened. I feel sorry that I’ll never be able to talk to my grandmother and ask her how she felt, if she was scared, if our family had to suffer. The country I live in now is responsible for so much of this horror, and it was taught to me in passing.
The journey of being adopted feels especially hard recently. My birth mother wanted me to have a better life since they could not afford to feed me. She worked in a small rice field in South Vietnam. My dad has worked his entire life to support my family, my interests, and to make sure I have everything that I need to be happy and successful. But even his protection, and my birth family’s well wishes cannot save me from anti Asian hate.
I have been classified as “other” my entire life by many non Asian people. Whether it be for jokes or whether I was truly an “other,” but the most recent occurrence happened last summer when a customer at work pretended I couldn’t speak English. I had never felt so hurt and degraded. I cried all day at work, and the next morning when I told my dad about what had happened. He couldn’t do anything for me except listen to me, and tell me to get my manager if someone wanted to start something with me.
And now I sit here, trying to process the Atlanta shootings. It’s hard to feel like everyone has sacrificed so much for me to be here, and to now realize there are people who hate me simply because I am Asian. My main sentiment has been:
“There are people who don’t want me in this country, when it wasn’t even my choice to come here.”
No proximity to whiteness will be able to save any Asian Adoptee. There is no difference when people look at us, they just seen another Asian person.
My mom told me to cover my face and be careful when I go out, but it doesn’t matter because people can still see my eyes. Eyes that I used to be ashamed of, but have learned to love and accept. Eyes that could now make me a target.
