Identity Crisis

As soon as my husband and I decided to live in America 5 years ago, I started stocking up Chinese outfits, fearing that I might not be able to buy any stylish, reasonably priced Min Naap, traditional Chinese silk-lined jacket, in the U.S.

At first I didn't give much thought to this seemingly silly past-time. But one day, while I was shopping in Wanchai for a nice min naap with my friend Madam Lau, she asked, "Are you having an identity crisis?"

Obviously unprepared for such a deep question, I looked at her and couldn't think of an answer. After about 30 seconds, I told her calmly, "Probably."

This strong sense of lost and confusion kept lingering in my mind after I moved to California. As an English major at college, I was trained to keep asking myself the question, "who am I?" But this became increasingly hard to answer in the first 2 years that I came to the U.S.

I was in the process of getting a green card, so I can't work. I didn't drive (I didn't have a HK driver's license & no green card. So it was impossible for me to get a U.S. driver's license.), and so I was very confined geographically. Almost all my new friends are friends of my husband's. I knew they knew my name and everything, but I have no doubt that I'm nothing more than "Gary's wife."

And then, I had my baby. I started making some friends of my own, though still not working. I was promoted from "Gary's wife" to "Genghis' mom." During this time, I was quite lost, though not unhappy. (Honey, if you're reading this, I'm not complaining!)

Not until I started my first job in San Francisco did I finally re-establish my identity. I was lucky enough to find a job at an advertising agency that not only allowed me to write in Chinese, but also let me bond with quite a few gals from Hong Kong. I felt totally alive. I had a job I liked a lot and girlfriends that I enjoy hanging out with. I stopped thinking about my identity because I knew who I was.

Less than a year later, my husband got a great offer in Texas, and my prospect of getting a decent job there seemed pretty promising. We decided to give it a try.

Once here, I started thinking about who I am all over again.

I'm Chinese. Yes - but I'm obviously differnt from most Chinese around here because I'm not from the mainland. We grew up in totally different cultural environment.

I speak fluent Mandarin (or, more accurately, Putonghua), but with an unmistakable Hongkong accent. I might get by if it's a simple and brief conversation. However, most of the time, as soon as we get to the tenth sentence or so, my mainland Chinese acquaintance will ask me where I'm from.

And, I'm definitely not an American. I speak the language, know the culture well enough, and even married to one. But I am NOT an American. So who am I really?

I still don't know the full extent of the answer to this question, but I'm trying, little by little, to come to terms with who I am, and try to use this to my advantage. I don't need to be just like the other person. I can be more than the other person.

I'm Chinese, but more specifically, I'm a Hongkie. I understand the Chinese culture as well as the western culture. I speak and write two of the most used languages in the world. I had been working in one of the most fast-paced work environment in the world - the media industry in Hong Kong. I can handle any extent of stress in any kind of work environment, I believe.

I'm old enough to appreciate traditions and history, but not too old to learn the new.

I'm a wife, a mom, a daughter, and a sister. And, most important of all, I'm a writer. This is probably how I found and re-discover my identity.

I write, therefore I am. Thank god for the blogosphere.