“What are you?”
This seemingly simple question may come with a concise response for many people.
I am Dutch.
I am Indian.
I am Vietnamese.
I am Indigenous Native American.
I am Dominican.
I am Ethiopian.
For me, this question requires a long response—and a complicated one.
Growing up, I have always found myself deciding which path I should take when confronted with a forked road: I could take one path and pursue being ‘American,’or I could take the other path and pursue my ‘Chinese-ness.’
When I was a child, all I wanted was to fit in with the other ‘American’ kids—whatever that meant. For a little boy of five years old, that meant asking my mom for PB&J sandwiches and packs of Goldfish for recess and lunch rather than the ‘Chinese’ alternatives of rice, soup, and fruit. Even during our yearly summer trips back to China— which I should’ve been excited for—I would always go in with a negative attitude, often remarking at my dislike for its ‘polluted’ streets, towering skyscrapers, and the overall inconvenience of living.
But, for me, everything suddenly changed when my family decided to move to Shanghai, China during my fourth and fifth grade years. I already had a negative perception of China as being dirty and underdeveloped, and the last thing I wanted was to have to go to school in that country, let alone live there. Whenever someone asked me where I was from or whether I was Chinese or not, I would strictly reply with “America” or “American.”
However, while living there, I naturally fit into my more ‘Chinese’ identity. I began to speak more Chinese in my daily life, conversing with shopkeepers and our school security guards. I walked to and from school all by myself—something that I could never have imagined doing in the United States at that age. My brother and I even took the subway by ourselves to the downtown area without feeling any sense of danger. As time passed, through immersing myself in Chinese society and learning about China’s history in school, I came to appreciate the country of my heritage and, most importantly, found in myself a Chinese identity.
When it was time to move back to the United States, I didn’t want to leave China—a drastically different change from what my previous self would’ve chosen.
All over again, I had to rediscover who I was in the United States. Whenever I met another “ABC” (American-Born Chinese) student, my heart would fill with excitement and warmth that reminded me of my home back abroad. I would then begin conversing with them in Chinese, only to be usually disappointed by their relatively inarticulate speaking.
As I grew older and learned more about geopolitics and the complexities of our world, I began to understand more and more about the controversy of my existence. In history books and the media, rarely is China ever portrayed in a remotely neutral or slightly positive light; common associations I saw and continue to see include ‘communism,’ ‘authoritarian,’ and ‘human rights violations.’I found it so difficult to accept the West’s portrayal of China when I personally lived there and experienced it completely differently—and quite positively.
In recent years, U.S.-China relations have hit an all-time low, and all this political tension has revealed itself in the most recent 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing.
On the political level, governments of the United States, United Kingdom, Australia, and other Western nations boycotted the Olympics, refusing to send high-ranking officials as diplomatic envoys to the event.
On the individual level, many Olympians of the Chinese diaspora community in the United States have come under close watch from both the Chinese and American public in case these athletes show any sign of allegiance to the other side.
For instance, when Chinese American figure skater Nathan Chen won gold in his individual event, his success was largely celebrated in the United States, especially among the Asian American community at large. However, Chen not only gained little support from the Chinese public, but was instead criticized because of his response to saying how the “Olympics were ‘bringing [China’s human rights record] to light’” in an interview. He was also criticized for a performance four years ago in which he used a song from the movie Mao’s Last Dancer, which describes the story of a Chinese woman who flees to the U.S.
Meanwhile, even the Chinese-American athletes who have chosen to represent China faced drastically different experiences with the Chinese public and were also criticized by some in the United States.
Among the other members of the Chinese diaspora who grew up in the U.S., freestyle skier Eileen Gu and figure skater Zhu Yi decided to compete for China instead.
Within China, Eileen Gu has received largely positive reception as bringing “Glory to Team China” for winning two gold medals and one silver medal while Zhu Yi has faced harsh criticism for her poor performance in her figure skating events, exposing a sort of double standard from the Chinese public.
In the United States, however, athletes like Eileen Gu have come under criticism for being “ungrateful” to the United States; she grew up in San Francisco and trained in the States, though she spent her summers in China. But, when asked about her identity, Eileen Gu is often quoted having said, “When I’m in the U.S., I’m American, but when I’m in China, I’m Chinese,”
While this is a sentiment that many Chinese Americans can relate to and still struggle to reconcile with, even figures as prominent as former U.S. Ambassador to the UN Nikki Haley have complicated this dilemma, stating that people like Eileen need to “pick a side, because you’re either American or you’re Chinese, and they are two very different countries.”
For these passionate and successful athletes who have trained their whole lives just for one short moment to show the world who they are, there is already immense psychological pressure. But, for them to also have to face criticism about qualities inalienable to their existence seems unreasonable when other U.S. athletes who competed for other nations do not.
In the Beijing 2022 Olympics, 14 U.S. athletes other than Gu and Yi have chosen to compete other countries, like ice dancer Tim Koleto, who competed for Japan, and snowboarder Seamus O’Connor, who competed for Ireland.
The fact that these other athletes largely avoided the controversy of representing another country in the Olympics shows there is another side of double standards from the American public as well. And, the victims are those caught in the crossfire between China and the United States—albeit mostly for political reasons rather than cultural differences as Haley would argue.
As tensions continue to mount between China and the United States, members of the Chinese American community including myself, find ourselves in an ever-delicate situation. If we “pick” any side, we will be seen as traitors by the other side. We love both our countries of heritage, but, in accepting parts of each side, we are alienated by both.
As Americans, we recognize our history as a nation of immigrants and one that hopes to continue its status as the ‘Beacon of Democracy’ for the world.
As Chinese, we also appreciate the rich culture and history of an ancient civilization that has only recently re-entered this new ‘World Order’ in which it finds itself a progressively complex status as a growing power.
As Chinese Americans, we know what it feels like to have two homes yet belong to neither. But, we are also capable of seeing the beauties and shortcomings of the two nations separated by a giant ocean of cultural, philosophical, linguistic, and societal differences instead of blindly accepting politically-inspired rhetoric.
My hope is that for those who walk or will walk in our similar shoes, we would never have to choose a side of allegiance. Instead, we can take advantage of the blessing of our unique identities to serve as bridges that connect the two places we call home, together.