Reach Out

It's a wonder why and how we fit into the history of mankind and the battles fought. I just finished watching "The Last Emperor," by Bernardo Bertolucci. The film covers an era when my parents were born. My father tells a story of his escape from incarceration and how his family's possessions were taken and burnt. I am grateful and most certainly spoiled by not having to endure the hardships of betrayal, corruption and uprooting. On the other hand, I find myself pondering, "who am I?" This question reminds me of the conversation I had one night, explaining why I answer questions the way I do. When I was in suburbia, people used to - and still do - question, "Where are you from?" My immediate response, after some contemplation on the correct answer, is "Connecticut." However, I know that from the way I look that people who ask this question are not pleased with the answer. I follow the response with a cliff-note to explain my genetic appearance, "My parents are from China." They seem relieved to know that I am not adopted and not some freak of nature... I am not sure I am completely knowledgeable of or fully embracing my background and upbringing. I feel a struggle or emergence within me that seems painstakingly slow. Should I feel a void for not being raised in the country where my parents were born? Should I feel as though I am betraying that country? It was not my choice to be born here. My citizenship, in my parents' eyes, has provided me a lever that other "Chinese" would not otherwise possess. It is the American nationality. With each day that passes, I am not sure that I am happy with their choice. When will I accept it? Will I accept it? If not, where would I go?