Girl and City

When I first came to Canada, I was six. My parents and I shared one room with no furniture except a double mattress on the floor. We shared the washroom and kitchen with six other tenants of the house. We had a third-hand bicycle, which my father used to get to school (he was studying his PhD at the time). My mother and I would walk everywhere because even public transport was considered a luxury. We’d walk four miles round-trip to Chinatown for groceries – traditional supermarkets were far too expensive. Those first two years also happened to be two of the coldest Canadian winters in recent history. I had no gloves, but I wanted to help mama, so I would always carry two grocery bags, and my little fingers would quickly become pink and frozen. I never complained, but mama knew how cold I was, and on our way home we would duck into a supermarket to warm up. Just inside the doors, they had those gumball machine candy dispensers, and I would avert my gaze because I didn’t want mama to think I wanted any. Without a word, she would give me a quarter. I would look uncertainly at her, and she would give a subtle nod, as if to say “Go on.” I would drag out my time deciding what type of candy I wanted, even though I already knew. I wanted the multi-coloured gum tabs, because gum lasted the longest. I would dump my handful of candy into one of my coat pockets, and all the way home, I would have something to chew on as we walked.

Even though we were poor, my parents didn’t want me to miss out on North American traditions, such as Halloween and Christmas. For my first Halloween, I dressed as a garbage bag. You see, my parents thought that the point of Halloween was to be as ugly as possible. So they cut out some holes in a garbage bag, smeared my face with something black. and I was off. I was a six year-old girl. I could have been a princess, a fairy, a Disney cartoon character, but no, I was a garbage bag. I didn’t care, I was overjoyed that perfect strangers were giving me candy – for free! (more…)

I have always been a very picky eater. Before I could talk or walk, I already knew the difference between good and bad food, and I refused to eat bad food. Even if I was force-fed, I would promptly throw up after the meal. Unfortunately, you can’t reason with a toddler, we do as we please. So my father would rush to the market every day after work to buy fresh vegetables, the best cuts of pork, and live fish¹, and would spend hours cooking when he got home.

As an infant, I was what one may call a vegan. I disliked meat – it was never tender enough – and I would chew a piece of meat in my little mouth until it was all fiber, and then spit it out. I never swallowed. I also disliked seafood – it was never fresh enough. Basic human instinct should tell us not to eat something that smells like ammonia. I would throw up if I even glimpsed dairy (my parents had to feed me milk when I was asleep).
Food-wise, I was a difficult child to raise, and I have been making up for it in other aspects my whole life. (more…)

1. This was in China in the late 80s, so supermarkets did not yet exist, and everyone bought their groceries from farmer’s markets. When it came to meat, for example chicken, you had to buy a live chicken and slaughter it yourself at home. [↩]

On my recent road-trip to the U.S., I found out about my engagement to an eligible bachelor in Hong Kong, and saw my cousin, someone who is responsible for memories that I have tried to suppress for the last nine years. He is five years older than me and recently married. He came to the U.S. this year for a PhD. Although he used to be my favourite cousin, I am now very uncomfortable around him, because being around him reminds me of a traumatic event that happened nearly a decade ago.

When we were kids, we used to hang out together all the time at my grandma’s, and because of China’s one-child policy, we were treated by our family, and treated each other, like brother and sister. After my family moved to Canada, we fell out of contact, but I returned to China by myself when I was 12 (going on 13) to spend the summer with my grandparents. After a month of living with my grandparents, who never left their apartment and rarely let me leave, I grew restless and bored. So my cousin and their family invited me to stay with them for the rest of the summer. I had a great time with them, and my cousin and I became very close very quickly. He was easy to get along with, and he treated me extremely well. We went on a trip to China’s coast for two weeks with their family friends, and he looked after me and shielded me the whole time (my Chinese was very poor at that time because I had almost completely stopped speaking Chinese in Canada, so many of his friends would make fun of the way I spoke, and I found it hard to join in to their conversations). However, his brotherly affection turned into something else. In hindsight, there were subtle clues along the way, but I was too naive to realize it. I embraced the idea that I had finally found someone resembling a brother – I had always wanted an older brother.

A few days after we returned from the trip, he came into my room one morning and we lay on the bed, just talking about what we were going to do that day. I didn’t make a big deal out of our lying in bed together because I thought of our closeness as if we were siblings, it didn’t occur to me that I needed to be weary of my personal space around him. I had my eyes closed as I lay there, and suddenly, he leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned. I didn’t know how to react, so I didn’t. I lay there, with my eyes closed, still as stone. My lack of reaction confused him, so he kissed me again.

The me today would have reacted violently and reprimanded him immediately. But the 12-slash-13-year-old me didn’t know how wrong it was, and didn’t know how to escape the situation. I was living in his home, and I’d be living there for another few weeks. I didn’t have the courage to reprimand him, even less so the courage to tell his parents. I couldn’t stand the humiliation of letting his family, my grandparents, and eventually my parents, find out about this kind of sibling behaviour. So I let him kiss me.
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It’s been half a year since I last wrote any grievance letters, but today, I cannot think of a better way to express my grievances.

Dear Mother,

I do not need you to tell me what I look like, that’s what mirrors are for. I do not need you to tell me how much I weigh, that’s what scales are for. I have an eating disorder as it is, so it’s probably not a good idea to tell me I am fat every time you see me. I am in shape. Round is a shape.

Regards,
Your Not Chubby Daughter

—

Dear Professor,

I am not really sure what you want me to write about in this exam since the answers are all pretty much given in the various articles you had us read. I guess I can spend 2000 word giving you a “best of” but shouldn’t you have read these articles before assigning them to us?

Cheers,
A Confused Student

—

Dear PreordainedLoverBoy,

Why have you not texted me in three days? I know you know I’m in The City now, don’t you miss me? Aren’t you going to miss me over the next few weeks? If you don’t contact me, aren’t you afraid that I might give up on you and hook up with someone else over the holidays?

xoxo
Your Preordained Lover Girl

P.S. Feel free to show up at my door with hand-written signs expressing your ardent love for me. My address is…

—

Dear Chocolate,

I love, love, love you. Thank you for being in my life.

Love,
Your Number One Fan

That last one doesn’t count, it’s not a grievance. But seriously, PLB, that’s it? No more texts? We’re just going to go cold turkey for the holidays? That is so anticlimactic.

This year, things have really come together for me. I feel so unbelievably lucky that there is nothing more that I could wish for. The greatest gift that I want to receive this Christmas is love. And it is also the gift I want to give.
All I want this Christmas:

• Enjoy being with family. After this year, I’ll be flying the coup! I want to spend lots of time with my mom and dad, take them out to dim sum, go to see a play or something, help them prepare a Christmas feast and enjoy the Veuve Clicquot I brought back from New York together.
• Actually play with my Wii. I bought a Wii nearly two years ago and have barely used it. I only bought one game on it. Once I start working, I doubt I’ll have any time to play at all. I’m not even sure I’m going to take my Wii to Singapore with me. So this holiday, I’m going to buy a few more games and play Wii!
• Cook again. I have completely lost touch with my cooking skills. These days, everything I make is blah and tasteless. I don’t put heart into cooking anymore. In fact, I’m not even sure I enjoy food anymore (I know, blasphemous!). I really want to enjoy the wonders of food and taste again. Plus, I probably won’t be cooking much at all when I’m in Singapore. So, I definitely want to cook at least one memorable meal this holiday season.
• Reconnect with high school friends. The friendships I made in high school really are lifelong, and after this year, we may be even more scattered than we already are. I want to do the things we always do – karaoke, AYCE sushi (or some outing to an Asian restaurant), shopping, etc. On this note, I don’t know if I should reconnect with MFL. I mean, I know not being close friends with him was a good decision, but if I am leaving soon, I don’t really have to worry about that anymore, right? So should I take this holiday season as an opportunity to re-establish our friendship?
• Reconnect with “satellite friends”. These are the one or two friends I’ve kept in touch with from other places in my life, like Chinese school and summer camp and whatnot. I usually only see them once a year during the holidays, so I definitely won’t miss my chance this Christmas.

What do you want for Christmas this year?