Becoming Californian
- Jeffrey and Edward Gu
- Mountain View
- CHINA, 05-20-2000
- 16
June 4th, 1989, in Beijing would forever change the future of my family. Smoke and dust trailing the endless line of tanks made gray and hazy the once-blue skies above Tiananmen Square. Although my mom was not (thank God) among the student protestors in Tiananmen Square, she knew right then that what she wanted, China could not offer. Before her eyes rolled tanks and students, corruption and freedom, a bright future and some dreams deferred.
She left the Beijing University of Aeronautics a month after the government violently subdued the protest, envisioning a much brighter and more hopeful future full of opportunities such a bright young woman well-deserves. With $60 (obtained from the black market as the Chinese yuan was not exchangeable via the government), a student visa granted by the University of Windsor in Ontario, Canada, and a suitcase half-full with old clothes, she boarded a plane that would ultimately reach Canada. Zai jian, China. Goodbye. Where to? Mom didn’t know where to go after disembarking the airplane. Which bus? Which stop? The blonde and brown hair blinded my mom; the jarring sounds of English made deaf her ears; and the exciting lands of the western world inhibited the remainder of her senses; culture shock finally took its toll.
My mom still today can recount taking her first bus ride through Windsor on Bus 42. After having collected data and examining the movements of her fellow Canadians, she felt confident enough to attempt to get off the bus—even small things like getting off a bus were news to her. She pressed the button confidently just as the old lady who had sat in front of her had done, and the bus stopped at its stop. She stood up and walked towards the doors as everyone seemed to watch her, even the man sitting behind her who was looking away; all eyes on her. The door didn’t open, much to her surprise. Without looking, the driver yelled, “step down!” What does that mean? She me yi si? She was holding up the bus, pondering over how to get those troublesome doors open. “Step down!” the rest of the bus mimicked the driver, and finally foot and step met. The doors opened automatically, and my mom hopped off as fast as she could, fearing insults from the people. She mustered enough courage to turn around, and the bus was already gone. She would learn how to walk, how to talk, and even how to eat—Canadian style. Soon, she would relearn these etiquettes Ohio style. And after that, Californian style.
In Ohio, my mom had a decent job in a software company with her very own cubicle. She worked designing robots to perform specific tasks, even going as far as to get her very own patent. Well, this came as no surprise as she did have a PhD in robotics from the University of Windsor. With her life coming together nicely, and her English improving without upper bounds, why would she need California?
Returning from her first business trip to California, my mom stepped into our Ohio house 10 pounds fatter, and at least 1000 pounds happier. The delicious Chinese food that reminds her of her childhood in China, the presence of a strong and populous Chinese community, the relative proximity and ease of flying back to China to visit her family-all were so definitive of California, more specifically the San Francisco Bay Area. How wonderful it would be to not be a popsicle in the winter, to not feel misfit in a mall, to be among others with the very same story of immigration and struggles. How wonderful California would be.
Within a year, we were in a small apartment in Foster City, California—it was no surprise to me that we lived right next to a Chinese supermarket and plaza, which I have never seen before in Ohio. The sight of so much diversity in California, from South Asian to European, from Middle Eastern to Latino, either frightened me or excited me—there is a fine line between excitement and fear.
It was in California that I first tasted Indian cuisine, Japanese cuisine, and Mexican cuisine. It was the first time I experienced life outside of the little white box I used to live in. We found California, and California found us. With her new computer software job, our family of 3 quickly found our little niche in California; rather than being labeled “Asian,” we were now “Chinese,” or perhaps even “the Gus.” We are Californians, and we are proud.