Spartan Daily - Serving San Jose State University since 1934

Issue date: 5/5/08 Section: Opinion

Samuel Lam

I guess when it comes right down to it, I'm not that Asian after all.

I don't have an accent. I am terrible with numbers. I know nothing about science. I can't build a computer. And I don't eat rice all the time.

Sorry, I can't live up to the stereotypical prerequisites for Asians. It doesn't work for me.

I speak English better than I speak Chinese. Getting a "B-" on an exam is very acceptable. I'm an embarrassment to the sport of badminton. And I don't squat when I take pictures - let alone throw up the peace sign when someone takes my picture.

Yet I'm still labeled Asian.

It wasn't easy being an American-born Chinese (ABC) boy in a very traditional family. My parents wanted me to stay true to my Chinese roots, while I was trying to find my identity in a diverse California. While all my friends woke up to watch Saturday morning cartoons, my Saturday mornings were spent studying Chinese at a school in San Francisco.

As my non-Asian classmates in elementary school asked me questions like "How do you write my name in Chinese?" and "Can you teach me how to say a bad word in Chinese?" I just told them everything I could about my culture. But when I noticed how different I was, I longed to be the same as everyone else.

"Why do we have to eat Chinese food for dinner every day?" I asked my mom on a weekly basis. "Just because I am Chinese, doesn't mean I have to eat Chinese food all the time."

Mom said that since Grandma was already home while I got picked up from after-school daycare, it would be easy for her to cook, and we could eat dinner right when we got home. Grandma was from Hong Kong, and Chinese food was the only set of recipes she had in her mental cookbook.

I was labeled Asian, but I didn't feel like I had to be just that. Did I have to be Asian all the time?

Growing up in the East Bay and having gone to school in the Berkeley area most of my life, I got a chance to experience a great collection of different people.

Going up and down Berkeley's University Avenue, I could eat food from all different parts of the world. A trip down Telegraph Avenue exposed me to music from all latitudes of this planet. And it didn't matter what you enjoyed, because it was OK to be different.

In the Bay Area, it didn't matter if skin color, language, religion or sexual orientation weren't uniform.

Caifornia has offered us a great exposure to different cultures and lifestyles. There is no shame - and there shouldn't be any shame.

Tiger Woods calls himself "Cablinasian" while he continues to dominate golf. Eminem at one point was the top artist in rap. Our next president might not be an old white man.

When we look into the diversity of our great world, we just have to wonder: What about being different matters? Not much really.

It took me a while to learn, but I was fortunate to have been raised Chinese at home. I love being a part of that culture. And I still love Chinese food.

But I was even luckier to have grown up in an environment that was so diverse that I could be whatever I want and make friends with whomever I want. I could listen to Led Zeppelin or 2Pac, eat a falafel and still kick your ass in ping pong.

So I guess you can label me "Asian-American-who-loves-everything-and-doesn't-care-what-you-think."

Or you can just label me Sam.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools