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It’s My Own Fault

Have you ever gone somewhere that made you feel really out of place and different? A place where you don’t fit in, and where the people around you make it seem so damn obvious? Most of us have been through those first days at a new school or job, but have you ever felt that it was really your own fault?

My story starts about a month ago. School just got out and I was so excited. For me, summer means staying out late, shopping every day, and being able to eat and sleep for most of the day. Then my mom suddenly announced that the whole family would be going on vacation to China. I was thrilled and could hardly wait. This was a big change from how I usually spend my summertime (staying at home watching daytime soap operas and consuming countless boxes of See’s chocolates).

It wasn’t my first time visiting China, but it sure turned out differently from how I pictured it to be. During the other visits, my family traveled with tour groups that took us only to the best hotels, the fanciest restaurants and the most popular tourist attractions. I never really had any idea of how regular people lived — until this time. This year, my mom decided to save a little money and go sightseeing on our own, instead of with our usual first-class, fancy-shmancy tours.

Right from the start the vacation was absolutely terrible. I could not believe the musty, cramped, roach-infested, no-air-conditioning-in-100-degree-weather rooms that we stayed in. Even worse, there was no TV, radio or anything of that sort. There was no way of escaping this nightmare. It felt like I was getting baked inside a dirty oven or something. I was angry with my mom for making my sister and me go through all this, but then somehow I started adapting to this lifestyle.

After adapting to my “nightmare,” I started to notice how everyone was living in the same exact conditions as I was. I started to realize how self-centered I was being. Now, I was not so much upset as I was ashamed. Not only did I feel weak for not being able to handle living this way, but I also felt extremely dumb and whitewashed when my mother’s friends asked why I was unable to speak Mandarin.

Now I feel like it was completely my fault. My mom tried to teach me Chinese and even enrolled me in several years of Chinese school. After flunking out of Chinese school, my mom was still determined to have me learn Mandarin. She forced me to take it as a foreign language in high school. My mother warned me that I would be sorry one day for being so lazy, and it was true. I learned a few words and phrases from my years of learning, but not quite enough to communicate with others.

Every time my mom brought my sister and me to visit relatives, we would get lectured in a language that sounded like gibberish to us, but we knew what they were saying because just about every other aunt or uncle had lectured us in the exact same way. They would first ask, “Do you know Chinese?” in Chinese, and then after figuring out we didn’t, they would start the familiar lecture, “If you are Chinese, you should be able to speak Chinese.” After that, they would ridicule us by saying how we look white when they know that both of us are 100 percent Chinese. It’s just that we’ve adapted to Western cultures and lifestyles.

I could clearly tell my mom was embarrassed of us, since she would quickly try to change the subject whenever someone started to ask about my sister or myself. I don’t know about my sister, but I felt pretty embarrassed too. I felt ashamed because I didn’t have knowledge of my own background.

When I was younger, I remember various teachers telling me, “You are only a failure when you fail to try.” They never really meant anything to me ... until now. I didn’t try, and therefore I am a failure. It is bad enough that I think of myself as a failure, but now everyone else does too.