On bananas and other humans
We don't get to decide what ethnicity we are. But every day we decide how ethnic we're going to be
MELISSA LEONG
How Chinese do you want to be?
Well, if you're not Chinese, your answer is probably � "Not very." But try something else: How � insert your own ethnicity or religion here � do you want to be? We don't ask this. In Toronto, one of the most diverse cities in the world, being Chinese, Italian, Jewish, Canadian, or whatever, is just something you are � without questioning.
As a society overall, we've embraced multiculturalism, but in doing so, we've stopped thinking about our backgrounds on an individual level. We're not examining the level of our ethnicity � the effect it has on us, on our kids, on our country. It's an issue we'll all have to face one day.
Like my Canadian-born girlfriend who's having a baby and wonders: How much Indian culture can I impart to my child when I feel I'm lacking it myself? Like me in university when a friend said I probably wouldn't fit in with her other Chinese friends because I was too "white." Like a co-worker who wasn't sure what to say when his half-Caucasian, half-Chinese son came home asking: "Why are people calling me Chinese? I'm not Chinese." No, you can't choose your cultural background. But you do choose the degree of culture in your life. Everyone fits somewhere on the spectrum: Lots versus little ethnicity. The Chinese cultural types identified below are meant for illustration the extreme positions. But the spectrum itself applies to any culture.
Where on the scale do you want to be?
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FOBs (Fresh Off the Boat)
"People call me a FOB," says 15-year-old Janet Leung in accented English. "I'm used to it." But she's hardly `fresh' from Hong Kong. The Markham resident immigrated to Canada when she was a year old. If you have FOB tendencies � an identity based on how you dress and what you do for fun, rather than when you arrived � you might shop at Pacific Mall, sing karaoke, go for bubble tea, gush about Taiwanese pop singer Jay Chow and boy band F4. (Ho you ying! So good looking!) If you have a Christina Aguilera track in your mini-disc player, you are so not FOB.
Most of your friends are FOBs too, because being with "your own" is more comfortable. It's like home. People immigrating from China or Hong Kong can settle in nests here. Re-create their native hoods. Markham could be like your mini-Hong Kong, as Chinese people make up 30 per cent of the community's population. You never have to speak English, can see a Chinese doctor, buy only Hong Kong fashion and watch Chinese television. And to the older generations, you're the good kids. You're keeping your culture as pure as possible and being true to your roots. You're Canadian on your own terms. "It's like a painting," says 15-year-old Wynee Lee. "You just don't mix all the colours to make one colour. You have the trees that are green. The sky that's blue. It makes a prettier picture."
We respect differences in Canada and no one is punished for staying in culture-based groups, says Augie Fleras, a professor of sociology at the University of Waterloo. "On the surface it looks like separatism but it's creative integration," he says. "Canada is a community of communities." But what's the trade off? By maintaining your culture thick and strong, what do you lose? By refusing to engage in Canadian society, people refuse opportunity. For example, jobs are often found through networking. "People who get job-related information from diverse places get better jobs," says Janet Salaff, a professor of sociology at the University of Toronto. "In contrast, those that only know people just like them are likely to get no new job information."
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"That's why I'm proudly a Banana: I accept the paradox of being both Chinese and not Chinese."
-WAYSON CHOY, author of The Jade Peony
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Leung says her parents have told her to get a job at a non-Chinese mall: "Looks better on the resume." She's a member of Vision Youth � a group of about 80 Chinese kids from 14 to 19 years of age. It was formed to give Chinese kids confidence to "mix with the mainstream." The group does outdoor fitness training, Toastmasters, volunteering and visits cultural centres of different ethnicities. "If you only hang with your culture, you're missing out on the good things in other cultures," says coordinator Eric Li. By keeping to yourself, everyone is missing out on what you have to offer.
CBCs walk both worlds: Western and Chinese. Carstin Hao, 15, was born in Hong Kong but he calls himself a CBC. He has both Chinese and non-Chinese friends but he keeps the groups separate. With his CBC friends, he speaks "Chinglish" (a mix of Chinese and English), hits every blockbuster movie at the theatre, roams First Markham Place and has Starbucks coffee. As a CBC, you take the best from both cultures and try to sew it seamlessly into your life. Arguably, ideal multiculturalism. Hao gets to make fun of both F4 and N'Sync. He drinks a green apple crush bubble tea with pearls, then a caramel frappucinno in the same afternoon. Nineteen-year-old Tim Li (another self-described CBC) says he's dating someone who's more FOB. His Chinese has improved and her English has improved. Everyone benefits.
Now the downside to double dipping is that you may not be `Chinese' enough for some FOBs. Chinese people call CBCs � juk sing or hollow bamboo. It describes a Chinese person born in Western society who doesn't fully fit into Chinese culture or mainstream Canadian culture. Leung, the acknowledged FOB, says she doesn't get along with some of her childhood friends. "They're so CBC. I can't talk to them anymore," she says. Really, what she means is that they're too Westernized. They've fallen into "Banana" territory.
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Bananas (Yellow on the outside, white on the inside)
The Banana is the model of assimilation. You speak perfect English and you're a product of a Western upbringing. You can cruise mainstream with your eyes closed. The best part is that you probably have the best shot at a varied group of friends. One day you're listening to your friend play the udo for belly dancers and trying on a sari for a wedding. The next day you're dancing at Latinfest at Canada's Wonderland. Every day, the world is open to you. You have global perspective. For example, you care not just about what's happening in China or Canada, but about bombings in Indonesia because your friend has family there. The catch is you have to deal with your family accusing you of forsaking your heritage. People call you "white-washed." Also, if you're pure Banana, what do you have to share with your friends? You can take them to dim sum but can you explain why people tap fingers on the table when you pour them tea?
Personally, I would have liked to have more to contribute, not only to my friends, but to my future kids. The Chinese traditions I pass on to my children will be watered down. (I'll call my mom: "Hi. We're trying to celebrate the Moon Festival. The kids don't like mooncake. Can we do it with Twinkies?") I secretly plan to move to Markham and "assimilate" the kids into the dominant culture there. They will attend Chinese school every Saturday. Because as of right now, I'll only be able to teach them Cantonese swear words and a Chinese poem about an elephant going to war and eating hot sauce. My parents will be of little help since they couldn't get the culture to stick to my sister or me. Even when my mom tries to speak Cantonese to me, she digresses into English and Western topics: "Why don't they just send an army of Terminators? Why just one?"
This is what I wrestle with: How do you carry on something that was barely passed on to you without feeling like you're pretending? I say to myself: "Retain something, anything. Do it for your country. Bring more than a banana to the buffet." Because when we ask how much ethnicity is enough, the answer is: Enough to have something to share at the table.
