A Chinese Immigrant Christmas

“So I eventually became comfortable being the outsider. And since I was never an insider, I didn’t have to worry that colleagues might laugh at me for an unlikely approach. Many times, that unlikely approach actually led to new understandings. - Stephon Alexander”

“HUANG LI YA IT’S TIME TO GO!” Your mom shouts from downstairs as she slips on her down-filled, red jacket, anxious not to be late. In the car, your father and brother are already waiting.

There's supposed to be Christmas magic in the air. But as you stare into the mirror, all you see a bored face staring back at you. 

On the quick ride over to Uncle’s (shu shu’s) house, you drive past houses with grand decorations and you wonder why your house only has a few haphazardly strung lights. 

You’re going to a “family” gathering, but you don’t actually have any family here. Your uncle isn’t really your uncle, just a close family friend that your parents met in Canada. For you, Christmas is not a time to see blood-relatives, it’s to spend time with other immigrant families. 

You don’t ever send a single Christmas card in the mail, instead, you put money into red envelopes because that's what Chinese people do during celebrations. 

You don’t sit down by the fireplace and watch Christmas movies, your parents have never even been to the theatres.

You don’t bake Christmas sweets, they're far too sweet for your parents.

You don’t eat turkey, the last time turkey was made, it was a concerning shade of black. 

Speaking of dinner, you’re here now. As you enter, the familiar scents of Asian spices and memories float in the air, there’s a lone decorated tree in the corner; other than that, there are no other Christmas decorations. But the house is pretty.

You exchange the common pleasantries with other “family”, “Hello uncle! How are you? How’s your health?” You don’t waste too much time talking to them. What is there to say? Nothing.

Dinner’s ready.

Auntie Duan cooked up a storm. On the giant mahogany lazy susan lies a dazzling array of feasts. There’s BBQ roast duck, mapo tofu, black century egg slaw, crispy fried pork, stir fry scallops, leafy greens, lotus root soup, and rice. Always rice. But with feasts like this, eating rice isn’t smart, you’ll have no room for everything else. Drooling, you grab your chopsticks and feast.

But where do you sit? You’re not old enough to sit with the adults, so by default you have to go sit with your younger “cousins”. AKA the kids of other immigrant families.

*Cue idle food chatter and watching that one auntie chase her unwilling toddler with food”

For your Christmas dessert, you’re all nibbling on cut fruit with toothpicks. The adults bring out the chinese shot glasses, liquor, and a deck of cards and start chatting about the housing market, land ownership, and their past in China.

You walk over to their table, bored out of your mind, begging the adults to teach you how to play their card game, but they make excuses:

“It’s not even that fun to play” 

“Your chinese isn’t good enough, you won’t understand” 

“Go watch the kids, they’ve been waiting all year to play with you!”

So you go downstairs to hang out with your “cousins” and their Wii.

As the night comes to an end, you finally exchange gifts. But only the children receive gifts. You get a red envelope and you hand your “cousins” a well-wrapped gift bought at Wal-Mart. You say your friendly goodbyes, “Bye bye!”

At home, you lie in your bed, heart warmed by your lovely night.

Two weeks later, you’re back at school. Eating lunch with your western friends. They’re sharing Christmas chocolates in their new Lululemon clothing. At lunch, they tell the stories of their crazy uncle at the cottage, or the family ski vacation.

Suddenly, you get this lacking feeling. Like you’re lacking in life because no one bought you loads of gifts. You feel confused and unloved.

Your friends have attended at least 5 different Christmas events, you only attended a makeshift dinner get together, without any real family. But in order not to be left out, you take their stories and try to match them up to yours, as you weave together an elaborate parallel world of how similar your dinner was to theirs. You desperately rack your brain for the presents you’ve received too, to make yourself feel better, see! You got just as many presents as they did! You’re western too! 

You try and try as hard as you can to convince yourselves you celebrated christmas like them too... But you know, you spent Christmas in another world.