The People We Can Never Fully Reciprocate: Chinese culture and the act of giving back

There’s a tradition in Chinese culture that has always quite intrigued me: reciprocation.  Reciprocation in every sense from what I’ve heard in my family.  Simple things such as, you brought us mooncakes this year, we will buy them for you next year.  Or, you lent us some money for college, we will give you the same when your child goes to college.  I hear more about reciprocation on my mom’s side of the family as her family is still based throughout China and is larger than my dad’s side.  But this cultural tradition intrigues me because it instills a mentality of learning and growing together.  Reciprocation is the nexus between two acquaintances, the oxygen that keeps the fire in a family going, and while I’m not extremely knowledgeable on Chinese culture, I know reciprocation plays a role in the way of life for many people in China.  Essentially, it’s a principle that says one shouldn’t just take and take and take; one must give back.

I’ve tried to become more aware of this in simple and everyday notions.  In conversations, my mom often says I talk too much.  It’s not the worst of problems, but I admit I’m quite chatty particularly when I’m in the mood.  But this hinders me from learning from others when I have conversations, which can be filled with my thoughts, opinions, and recent reminisces.  Buddha once said, “If you’re mouth is open, you’re not learning.”  I feel this couldn’t be truer in conversation, as I cut off my ability to receive, or another person’s ability to reciprocate.  While the sharing and purchasing of mooncakes is one deed that can be reciprocated, the sharing and passing of knowledge is perhaps of a more paramount importance.  

It’s difficult to say, and I’ve been playing with this idea, but I’ve noticed there are some people in one’s life who you can never reciprocate.  Yes, most people I meet I can give and take from them.  We share ideas.  We spend time with each other.  We give each other emotional support.  And while I believe acting out of genuine care and appreciation is the ultimate lesson reciprocation teaches, there are people who you can never give back enough.  There’s only a few special people like this and at this point in my life, as I am preparing to head off to my second year at Andover, thinking about how eighth grade was the year I lived in my parents house everyday (and probably ever will), I can’t help but feel grateful.  This appreciation has pleasantly awashed me each morning these past few days, 24 hours closer to moving in day of my sophomore year of high school.  Because honestly, at this point in my life, the two people whom I feel I will never be able to fully reciprocate are my parents.  And while I will support them when they’re old, they’ve given me an education, family, and handed me life: gifts that are virtually impossible to give back.  I’ve thought about this here and there, toyed with the idea for a little while and I’ve come to conclude that this may be the only exception with China’s cultural tradition of reciprocation fails to fulfill.  

The Great Nation We Are - John McCain

“Some might read this and say to themselves, "Who gives a damn what happened to a terrorist after what they did on September 11?" But it's not about them. It never was. What makes us exceptional? Our wealth? Our natural resources? Our military power? Our big, bountiful country? No, our founding ideals and our fidelity to them at home and in our conduct in the world make us exceptional. They are the source of wealth and power. Living under the rule of law. Facing threats with confidence that our values make us stronger than our enemies. Acting as an example to other nations of how free people defend their liberty without sacrificing the moral conviction upon which it is based, respect for the dignity possessed by all God's children, even our enemies. This is what made us the great nation that we are.” -John McCain

Why I value Progress

This summer is when I realized how unhealthily competitive kids in high school are.  Some days it seems that all my friends are in higher math and sciences classes than me.  Some days, it feels as if everyone has already taken AP math exams.  Some days, it feels like no matter how much I try to study over the summer, I can’t catch up to them.  However, it dawned on me today as I was taking a walk: why am I trying so hard to learn a years worth of math in three months that my friends know just because they started learning math earlier?  This is certainly not meant as consolidation, or meant to signify giving up.  In fact it’s much the opposite.

A few years ago, my dad told me something thoughtful that I’ve somehow managed to exhume from the bottom of my memory and apply to my life almost everyday recently.  He told me, “It doesn’t matter where you start, as long as you make progress everyday.”  Something that kept nagging me last year was the fact that I was not in as high a math level as many of my friends.  It nagged me and chewed at the edges of my stomach every time a group of my friends were all doing precalc and trigonometry together in a circle as I was sitting on the side crunching at some geometry homework.  It bothered me a bit that I couldn’t participate.  

But there’s a reason behind this.  At my old school, math was taught in a different order than it’s taught at my high school.  Thus, the math I had learned in middle school was preparing me to delve right into precalc rather than geometry.  Turns out my friends’ middle schools learned math in the reverse order, with geometry during middle school, preparing for precalc in high school.  I was put in geometry simply because I didn’t know it.  

That bothered me, that I would never be able to “catch up” to them in the path of the course.  In the beginning of this summer, I was doing hours long of math almost daily.  I desperately wanted to learn three terms worth of math in the span of two months so I pushed and pushed.  I wanted to catch up with my friends, some of whom were a year ahead of me.  It was tiring and I don’t believe I actually retained information as well as I could have. 

It recently dawned on me that I don't have to do that.  This summer I realized that making progress is the most important part of learning and of development as my dad said.  I’ve found that maybe I don't need to do two and a half hours of math everyday as long as I’m making progress with the time that I am spending.  And for me, that’s enough.  

While high school students are competitive in almost every sense, from athletics, to arts, to academics, to even college applications, something I’m striving to live by is not to make noticeable progress in understanding, in application, or in habit everyday.  It’s a lifestyle of learning and improvement and while I may not start in the highest level in everything I do, I believe it’s important to fill in the gaps where they exist.  After all, there’s a famous adage, It is not where you start that matters but it is where you end does.  What I like about this particular quote is that it says where we start doesn’t matter since we all come from different backgrounds.  While I don’t believe there is ever an “end” to learning, progress, progress, progress is something I will try to live by.  

Crazy Rich Asians as a platform to racial equality

Through Youtube advertisements, through Amazon Charts, through online trailers, through NPR radio discussions, most of us have probably at least heard of the new movie titled and based off Kevin Kwan’s book, Crazy Rich Asians.  Even though the book was originally published in 2014, It was merely two weeks ago when I was browsing through some new music videos on Youtube, that I first saw the advertisement for this new movie.  Here’s what continues to surprise me: how little time I’ve known this book and how greatly it has inspired and empowered me as an Asian American. I was immediately drawn and hooked to the story, the actors, and the setting of the movie on the Youtube advertisement; I didn’t even press the “Skip Ad” button that appeared in the corner of the screen.  And almost immediately after I saw the ad, I looked the book up on Amazon to find that it had over 2K reviews, and was an acclaimed National Bestseller.  Of course I ordered it. 

The day it arrived in the mail, I began to devour page after page, chapter after chapter.  Less than a week later, I finished the book.  By then, I was merely waiting for the release of the movie.  Finally, yesterday, two days after the movie was released, I had the opportunity to see it. I spent the day in Boston with my good friends (AR and SMC!!) and went to the movie theaters after to see Crazy Rich Asians.  

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Crazy Rich Asians is empowering for so many reasons, I believe for Asians in particular.  A long time personal struggle for me has been dealing and facing stereotypes about Asians and Asian Americans.  What’s incredibly unique about Crazy Rich Asians is that it has an entirely Asian cast.  Viewers receive insight into the lives of (some crazy rich) Asians, that may even appeared skewed to those who hold prejudice to how Asians should live.  I’ve seen many movies where the Asians are the housekeepers, or the nannies, or the maids.  While the maids and entertainers in Crazy Rich Asians were Asian, it was empowering being able to sit in front of the screen, and see people of my race in positions of power as well.   

Perhaps one of the biggest stereotypes about Asians is that they may appear to be “submissive”, or nerdy, more “delicate”, or despising of loud and social events etc, as they are often portrayed in movies and TV shows. In the past, I’ve felt that Asians are seen as this and that stereotype.  That was it.  No one fell outside of the stereotype.  Every Asian was in some way bound to one stereotype or another.  I somehow fell into the stereotypes about Asians that were portrayed in movies but with time, I’ve come to believe race doesn’t define and solidify personality; it just shapes one’s appearance.   

In Crazy Rich Asians, I sincerely felt every type of person was portrayed.  There were fun and party loving people Asians.  There were the Asians who didn’t receive good marks in school.  There were the outgoing and the certainly the funny Asians (Peik Lin…).  The serious ones, the caring ones, the mean and the notorious ones.  Everyone was represented.  Crazy Rich Asians surely captured this message in a fun and fast rom-com.  

I was listening to a NPR radio discussion about this movie/book.  One of the Asians being interviewed during the session talked about how Crazy Rich Asians also portrayed the chasms between Asians who grew up in Asia, versus another country.  Rachel Chu, the lead character, is a Chinese immigrant who grew up in California.  However, when she goes to Singapore with her boyfriend, she realizes how different she is culturally.  For example, she didn’t know how to make dumplings, even though she is Chinese.  Or, at the party, a server came around with a finger washing liquid, which Rachel almost drank thinking it was wine.  This for me goes a long way in showing how where we grow up influences our personalities and knowledge, further illustrating how slight of a role race plays besides determining one’s appearance.  In fact, in Rachel’s case, she was so culturally assimilated that the only real “Asian” part of her was her appearance.  Rachel’s boyfriend’s mother describes Rachel as “yellow on the outside, white on the inside”.  

Crazy Rich Asians is both constructed on stereotypes while defying them.  Indubitably, stereotypes are based on some truth. The issue with extreme ones is that they are no longer just a stereotype; they become a societal expectation.  I believe this is where it becomes a steep slope for many, it’s the line people cross when they’re unsure.  It’s when one feels they must behave, act, talk in a way that fits into that societal expectation.  Crazy Rich Asians defies those societal constructions in the swiftest way, by showing all different kinds of Asians all in one movie.  So much so that the community in the movie could be compared to a community of any other race with diverse and distinct arrays of people.  

It intrigues me how little time I’ve spent on Crazy Rich Asians (just two weeks!) and the way it has made me think in such short time.  While I most definitely enjoyed the book more than the movie, I would recommend both to all readers!  It’s an eye opener, written by an Asian male, and truly defies the cookie-cutter societal standards through show and portrayal.

Dreams

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed how I remember my dreams more.  Especially recently.  Some people have weird, unearthly and humanly impossible dreams that are fantastical, but I fall into the group of people who have those rivetingly realistic dreams about things that could actually happen…to myself.  Then there are other people I ask, who never remember their dreams.  They claim they just don’t dream.  I did some research, and interestingly, everyone dreams; it’s merely a matter of who remembers them.  

This summer, I’ve started to remember a startingly greater percentage of dreams than when I was in school.  I believe this is due to my brain’s relaxation.  During the school year, I’m always busily hurrying about, trying to complete this assignment, go to this event, add in a workout here, conference with a teacher, review my notes from class etc.  My brain, I must admit, during the school year, is much less creative than it is in the summer.  In the summer, I think.  I can find the time when I don’t have to do anything, or think about anything and just sit (or pace) and let my mind wander freely.  I’ve noticed that in my freetime, I usually ponder books and novels I’ve read.  Or I try to think about different political views and why I would or would not support this side.  There’s also that side of me that has reveries about what I want my future life to look like and at the back of my head, there’s the nagging voice that keeps listing everything I’ve still got to do today.  It’s during these moments that I have the opportunity to think about things.  I’m thinking that perhaps during the summer, the creative side of my brain is more activated, allowing me to remember my dreams better.  

My dreams lately have been surreal lately and it bothers me.  Last night, I dreamt I was drowned with a boy I know off a raft in the middle of the ocean.   Last week, I dreamt I lived in an apartment, and I caught two criminals (I think I was part of the FBI), then drove off in a blue convertible.  I’ve noticed in the past that my dreams tend to lean on the more violent side though I’m not sure why.  There’s usually a chase involved, and there are almost always people in the dream whom I know as acquaintances.  A dream from last week that I was on the less violent side and definitely on the more random side, involved me brushing my teeth with an Oral-B toothbrush, staring into a rectangular mirror that ran the entire length of the walls from floor to ceiling, purfled with LED lighting.  An acquaintance of mine was standing next to me, also brushing his teeth. 

Recalling my dreams and trying to make sense of them has perhaps been one of the more interesting parts of my summer.  I don’t think I’ve ever remembered dreams as vividly in my life.  Perhaps I’m not sleeping as deeply, or for as prolonged a time period as I should be.  Often, I will wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off, and recall the dream vividly.  But as soon as I doze off a little bit before my alarm actually goes off, I’ll forget it again.  Some dreams dissipate more quickly than others and as to many days, I simply wake up, walk downstairs for some breakfast, and try to make sense of what I experienced so vividly in my head. 

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls is no new memoir.  It was published 13 years ago, in 2005.  It remained on the New York Times Bestseller List for seven years, and later, was adapted into a movie. Nevertheless, I just recently learned of this memoir. Those of you who keep up with my blog, will know that recently I read Educated by Tara Westover, which is also a memoir.  When I shared on an instagram story my review for Educated, a friend of mine replied to the story and recommended that I read The Glass Castle.  

The two books are similar and different in many ways.  Personally, I enjoyed Tara Westover’s writing style more.  It was able to reach me more deeply and I felt I was more in the mind of the writer, feeling and thinking exactly as she was in the moment.  It was almost more personal, and Westover found details and emotions to include that are relatable to everyone, regardless of how one is feeling of emotions, or the catalyst for these emotions.  She expresses and weaves these emotions into her writing seamlessly which makes for a heart-wrenching memoir about family, decisions, and perseverance.  

Meanwhile, the plot in The Glass Castle is more simple and realistic.  In a literal sense, the biggest difference between Westover and Walls, is that Walls’s family was weighed down by financial issues and her parents’ lack of motivation to work and save money.  Walls family dreamed for a better life, a life where the four kids could go to the city to work, and where they would all get an education.  In Westover’s case, her family was weighed down by extreme Mormonism. Pious practices prevented her from going to school or to even the doctor.  As a result, there are stark difference in the goals of these two women throughout their childhoods.  For Westover, her ultimate goal was to get an education and to bring together her family.  For Walls, it was about getting out of her family’s poverty and giving herself and her three siblings a new life.  

Jeannette Walls highlights defining moments in her life, and writes in what I like to call “snapshots”, where she shares only the most defining moments, giving not too much information about the before and after/impact.  For example, seeing her half painted yellow house, outsmarting some bullies with her brother in front of their house, hiding in the bathroom during lunch because she didn’t have a lunch. 

One aspect I enjoyed more about reading Walls childhood experience is the realm of it.  Her situation seems all too true for so many people, and Walls uses a greater portion of the book discussing her childhood, rather than what happened when she grew up.  The stories she wrote were more relatable to me as a reader, though I believe Westover shares a very unique background with her family.  As a reader, I noticed how many years she had skipped portraying in detail.  Westover on the other hand, portrays about 10 consecutive years of her life in detail.  

Perhaps the beauty of both these two books I read this summer is that they convinced me that memoirs can be very interesting.  I’ve never thought of myself to have an unique childhood compared to the other kids I’ve interacted with, though this is not to forget the great privilege I have growing up.  Nevertheless, I’ve come to believe hardships, difficult decisions, rebellion, and struggle make the greatest stories.  This is something both Educated and The Glass Castle share in common and they have captured my interest in memoirs.

That imaginary, perfect future

"We always overestimate the change that will occur in the next two years and underestimate the change that will occur in the next ten. Don't let yourself be lulled into inaction.” -Bill Gates

I first heard that quote a few months ago I believe at debate camp.  It’s interesting to think about.  I’m still in high school, but sometimes I try to envision my life a decade from now.  What I’ll be doing, or more what I would like to be doing and what I would like to be have accomplished.  My parents sometimes tell me not to think too far ahead, to focus my energy and concentrate more on what’s in front of me today, what is in my control, and what I can do in the present.  But I still like to think ahead of time.  To think to what I might be doing a decade from now.  For me, it’s not simply thinking too far ahead; it’s motivation.  

There are many things that I would like to accomplish between now and a decade, when I’m 25-26.  When I was 13, I wrote a post called 23, and in retrospection, I realize how substanceless, convoluted, and abstract my writing was back then.  While the syntax is one thing I can criticize, the content, and the goals I had nearly three years ago are so vastly differently from whom I want to be now.  

Bill Gates did say that we often overestimate the change that will happen in two years, but I think I’ve underestimated it.  My mindset has changed considerably, the books I enjoy reading have changed, my opinions on relaxation have changed, and even my views on family have changed.  

While it isn’t written in my poem, I remember in sixth grade I was determined to get a PhD in England.  I wanted to be a professor and part-time writer.  In seventh grade, my goals changed and I have different aspirations now.  I may not end up getting a PhD in England.  I might not be a professor either.  I’m interested in economics and I actually enjoy living in the US!  The image, the vision, of that perfect “ideal” life has evolved with such short notice and it has taken me by surprise.   

Gate’s quote refers primarily to technological developments and the evolution of society as a whole.  However, since I’ve applied it to how I look at my “ideal” personal life, I would make one minor adjustment for when it comes to humans outlook on their own lives.  I’ve met people (I’m one of them myself), who have outlined big and ambiguous plans, stating they want to do this in life, travel here and there as adults, and live in mansions, marry this type of perfect spouse, have this many kids, have these degrees, have this many pets etc. in 10 years.  The truth is, through observation, I’ve noticed when we think about our own lives, we exaggerate what we want and the limitations of what is achievable.  We set, sometimes unrealistic, expectations because we want to live this perfect life that we’ve crafted in our brains.  

We gather information.  We see things and read things in books and news.  Some of this makes us go, uhh, I hope that won’t be me, and other things make us go, wow, I want that too!  As we’re collecting this information, that’s when we start to form these imaginary lives we would like to have.  I believe imagination does wonders and for me, it affects me, as motivation but also as a burden of pressure.  

That minor adjustment I was talking about to Gate’s quote when referring to each individual’s hopes and aspirations is this:

"We always underestimate the change that will occur in the next two years and overestimate the change that will occur in the next ten.”  

I think big about how I want my life to look in the far future.  I think about where I want to live, I think about what I want my family to look like, I think about what I want to do for work.  However, I overlook how much change can occur in the near future, as I’ve noticed upon rereading a blog post I wrote three years ago.  I am someone who thinks with a huge imagination about what my “ideal” future would look like.  As my English teacher pointed out this year, it doesn’t always work out, but is more a source of inspiration and self-motivation.  

As much as I may strive for what I want, there still may be setbacks.  I may overestimate how much I can learn or my physical capabilities.  I may even overestimate how much time I have to do x.  And with each of those types of mistakes I make, I’m sure part of that perfect world will begin to fall apart.  But I still keep that ideal, perfect imaginary life in my head, just for in the case that I do manage to get there.  

I'll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara

While the 1970s can be remembered as a time Jimmy Carter was president, or the years following the Voting Rights Act of 1965, or when Elvis Presley died, after reading this book, I will probably always remember it as the beginning of the Golden State Killers series of rape and murder crimes.  How one man was able to commit 50 rapes and murdered over 10 people, terrorizing the state of California for over a decade.  This is I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara, a book which tells McNamara’s own journey in trying to hunt down this serial killer who managed to elude the police for 44 years. 

--SPOILER ALERT--

Perhaps the stats of this crime, and the magnitude of the crime is more interesting than the book itself.  In fact, it wasn’t until merely four months ago that the Golden State Killer was caught this year (April 2018).  It wasn’t until then that this historical time period came into light with the increased popularity of McNamara’s book and as details of the crimes clarified with the help of the media.  

It began in the mid 70s when a series of rapes began to occur in Sacramento, California.  37 rapes occured in just Sacramento over the course of two years, all during the night.  There were many similarities and notable patterns about all the cases.  The rapist seemed to be attacking similar types of homes, ones that were single story, second from the corner, and he was reported to have stalked these homes months in advance before he made a move.  Neighbors reported seeing a man, and described him as average in build, 5’9’’-5’10’’ with blond hair.  He always wore a sky mask when he attacked, tied his victims with ligatures, and always stole a personal item from the house like rings, wedding bands, custom made cufflinks etc.  He scarred Sacramento and there he was known as the EAR, or East Area Rapist.  

Later, he was found to have traveled all the way down to Southern California where he committed more rapes.  However, due to the poor communication between the counties in California, he took on different nicknames wherever he attacked and only later, when DNA technology was introduced, did investigators realize this was the same man committing the same crimes.  In Southern California, he had the audacity to attack couples and it was during his time in Southern California that he began to murder his victims.  Yet, at the time, the police had not linked the cases in Sacramento with the cases in Southern California, and this was not made possible until DNA technology emerged.  

What I found most intriguing about this whole case, was that one man was able to outsmart 44 years worth of investigation and nearly two generations of police officers.  No DNA database found any similarities in the genetic code, and the crimes just kept rising.  As McNamara illustrates, investigators tried many ways to locate where the GSK lived and where he was from by mapping out the locations of his crime, which could show familiarity in a particular area or not.  However, after 1986, the crimes stopped.  They’d been ongoing for 12 years straight and even then, neither a face nor a name could be pinpointed.  I still wonder what made the GSK stop, and I believe it’s due to the evolution of technology.  I would guess he was getting scared of tech’s power, or maybe investigators were beginning to close the gap after DNA technology was introduced.  

--END OF SPOILER--

McNamara writes in a detailed, fluent voice about her own journey through interviewing victims, and her own research.  McNamara was not an investigator herself, but rather, used a power search tool, Google, as her means for investigation.  She writes a fast-paced, riveting novel and to this day, the whole idea of the case scares me.  While I was reading about the rape scenes and the details as McNamara puts the pieces of the puzzle together, I remember I kept looking out the window of my house, and against regular intuition, pulling the drapes of the windows closed.  McNamara’s writing makes the reader feel as if they are there.  She also collaborated heavily with top investigators in the case, including Paul Holes.  Sadly, while McNamara died before having finished the book, the documents and the almost complete book she’s left behind has publicized and educated the public on one shady and underreported upon serial killer in our past.