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The Chinese American Without a Chinese Name
By: Jenny Parker
I walked up to the customs agent's counter in Beijing
International airport, and mindlessly handed the customs agent my passport. He
then mindlessly did his thing with my passport. It was supposed to be a quiet
transaction, but he broke the silence when he looked up and asked if I still use
my Chinese name in America. With a blank look on my face, I began to consider
supplying him with an answer he might like to hear, but he didn't give me enough
time to think and he answered for me that that I must not use my Chinese name
anymore. My passport was handed back to me with a smile. He then wished me a
pleasant journey and pointed me to the three long security checkpoints reserved
for US bound passengers. While standing in line, I thought about my long-lost
Chinese name and how unattached I am to my Chinese name....
Born in 1969 in communist China, my parents promptly decided to name me after
something that had something to do with Chairman Mao. Not that they thought of
him as a great leader, but rather out of fear. They picked a little known poem
by Mao, which allowed them to show enough dedication to Mao without being
reminded too much of him. My name was the first character of the three character
title of this poem. (They actually needed to have three children to qualify for
Mao's poem, but they stopped at two. My sister's name was the second character
of the title, but her character is better known.) They clearly went too far with
their quest, not only did most people fail to associate my name properly with
Chairman Mao, but most people simply don't know the character that is my name.
As a young child in China, it always surprised me if someone could pronounce my
name correctly without being told first. I regarded anyone who knew my name as
certainly the most learned and intelligent. They would often ask anyway how I
got such a little known character as a name and I would politely repeat the
origin of my name, including that I only have one sibling and that I don't
actually know the poem itself, just the title. I also endured numerous longer
and more colorful dialogs about my name between my mother and other curious
people. Once in a while, my parents would apologetically explain that my name
was selected to protect me, but I am certain that my name had not once protected
me when I got myself in trouble.
I came to America just in time to start 8th grade, and by then my Chinese name
had been loosely “translated” phonetically into English. Now it really sounds
nothing like my name, even when I say it. On quite a few occasions, I was
completely oblivious when someone was calling for me. One day, my grandmother
suggested to me that since I live in America now, it would be easier to have an
English name. I thought this was an excellent idea. The very first name she
suggested was “Jenny,” and I said okay. Finally, I had a name that is simple,
modest, and best of all, does not call attention to itself.
When I got married, since my husband isn't Chinese, I realized that I would lose
part of my ethnic identity if I changed my last name but I decided to change my
last name anyway. The logic was simple: I wanted to have the same last name as
my future children so that no one would mistake me for their nanny. I kept my
maiden name as my middle name. I like my last name by birth. Most of the time a
middle name is not required, so, on paper, my name does not suggest that I am
Chinese American.
In real life, I am a Chinese American—a proud one, I might add. I am fluent in
spoken and written Chinese. My favorite carb is rice, in fact, it is pretty much
the only carb I like. I am also an avid green tea drinker, and rarely miss an
opportunity to order stinky bean curd if my dining partner can tolerate if not
share it. After I had children of my own, it became even more important to
embrace being Chinese. I wanted to pass down the great Chinese heritage and
values to my children. They are taught to be respectful and obedient to their
teachers in school, and that being smart and getting good grades is a great
source of pride, and yes! math and science is more important than liberal arts.
I also made great efforts to teach my children to be fluent in
Mandarin Chinese
in our predominately English speaking household. We were fortunate to afford the
neat trick of hiring a full time Chinese speaking nanny for our children for 6
years. I read Chinese children books to my children almost religiously every
night. Both of my kids were given Chinese names (ones that I like) in addition
to English ones and we use their Chinese names at home. We celebrate each major
Chinese holiday, and for
Chinese New Year, I even stage a celebration that can
sort of rival Christmas. They get all dressed up in their beautiful silk Chinese
outfits on New Year's day, I arrange nice display of treats on our table for the
kids to enjoy, and instead of the more traditional treats, I disguise mine with
gold-wrapped Chocolate coins, and snacks that they like. After all, one has to
enjoy the treats to appreciate the holiday. And of course, the red envelops,
which they grow to appreciate more and more each year. One day, I think they
might like it better than the presents during Christmas. I just have to be very
generous with their red envelops. But the most festive part of our Chinese New
Year celebration is our annul pilgrimage to my parent's house. Where they learn
that Chinese New Year is a great family celebration mixed with a lot of eating,
and more red envelops for the children. I tell them that they are lucky to have
more holiday celebrations than most of their friends, because they are Chinese.
And I am lucky to be an Chinese American too. Because I fully embrace the
benefits from two great cultures. Even without a Chinese name.
About the Author
This article is printed with permission from AsianParent.com -- Offering a large selection of Chinese children's Books and DVDs for 0-12 year olds.