It’s curious how non-mainland-national Chinese are treated on the mainland. They are often held to much higher standards for their language, for example. Whitie such as myself can say the equivalent of ‘HIIIII!’ and be showered with compliments; Chinese-American friends can be far more articulate and still criticized for their accent. Last year Wuhan University held an international festival to showcase international students. The only American who was willing to participate was of Chinese descent, and he was refused because he did not look “American enough.”  Strange standards. So, I asked a Chinese friend to write about her experiences. From Yilin:

Who is a Chinese American? In the minds of some of the Chinese locals I have encountered, this identity – it seems – is quite the anomaly and/or virtually nonexistent. Although I immigrated to the states at age three and have since become a naturalized American citizen AND strongly identify with my American identity, I often describe myself to locals as – hoping that they will be better able to understand my background – an ABC (American-born Chinese). Nonetheless, I am still asked a plethora of questions to the effect of, “Why do you not have blond hair? Are you mixed (these questioners often answer this themselves and conclude that I am simply not American-enough because of the ‘Chinese blood running through my veins’)? How did you learn English?” When I converse with foreign friends in American English, onlookers approach me to say, “You are a great translator.” In terms of a more negative experience, one waitress would not serve me the western-styled eggs sunny-side-up and toast breakfast because she told me, point-blank, I am my (Caucasian) travel partner’s tour guide and not a foreigner; she subsequently directed me to the 满头and 粥 table (traditional Chinese breakfast dishes). On the opposite end of the spectrum, some expat Caucasian Americans have mistaken me for a Chinese local (I acknowledge that my fluent Mandarin Chinese speaking skills partially contribute to this misconception) and ask me why my spoken American English is not packaged with a foreign accent.

How do I feel about all this? Two years ago, I would have answered with three words: anger, frustration, and confusion. For lack of a better example, in Amy Tan’s Joy Luck Club, one Chinese American character feels that she is unable to find total acceptance in both American and Chinese societies. Even in the U.S., I sometimes sense that to be considered an American one should be white (or at least non-Asian). As a case-in-point, several of my ABC colleagues have been asked – and are still asked (by Caucasians) – where they learned their American English (the implication is that it is too authentic). Another American-born friend was initially mistakenly enrolled in her elementary school’s ESL (English as a Second Language) program because she has a Chinese last name.

People who possess two such identities are sometimes referred to as the “in-betweeners.” Although I cannot claim to have achieved a completely healthy identity balance, I have learned to recognize some of these situations as learning opportunities; opportunities to reflect on myself, converse with others, and share my experiences with them so that they may understand that the Chinese American identity is not such a singularity. In China, I sometimes also feel more comfortable describing myself as an American Chinese. Finally, I am proud to have both such identities; I am proud to be an American with Chinese roots.

Most importantly, invaluable advantages as a non-foreign looking individual is that locals do not sycophantically and repeatedly compliment my Chinese speaking skills when I say 你好, and/or, if this were another lifetime and I was born a heterosexual male, tell me to 赶快找一个中国女人 (hurry and find a Chinese girlfriend).

It’s taken as an article of faith (by me, anyway) that the U.S. has a unique ability to assimilate immigrant populations, and that this will allow us to avoid the perils of geriatric descent, of the sort that is taking place in Japan at present, and will take place in W. Europe, and, to a different extent, in China. My position in evaluating this is somewhat privileged; I’ve never tried experiencing life as an immigrant in the U.S.