What are the stories that you grew up with? Hansel and
Gretal? The Three Pigs? Star Wars? Harry Potter? The
Hunger Games? Growing up with immigrant parents means that you grow up with
nonfiction stories: stories of
political oppression, war, hardship, injustice and escape.
My parents grew up in Taiwan, a tiny island off the coast of
China. For a wonderful albeit
fictionalized but historically accurate account of my parents, please read my
sister Julie Wu's novel, The Third Son. Growing up in Taiwan exposed my parents to the harsh reality
of marshal law, where a misspoken word or simply bad luck could make you
disappear forever. Teachers could
physically punish children; my mother remembers when she and her classmates
would be forced to stand out in the tropical sun without hats until they
fainted if the teacher was mad at the class. My father remembers hearing the screams and sounds of
torture victims in buildings that conveniently surrounded the school
classrooms. My mother had to rely
upon the advocacy of her school principal to obtain permission to apply to high
school from her parents; my father had to rely upon the kindness of his Uncle
to give him lifesaving glucose shots since his parents didn't feed him enough
food (the food went to his older siblings). By hard work and determination, my father passed an exam in
order to gain a travel visa to the United States, where he obtained his
Master's and Doctorate degree. My mother and brother had to wait three years
to immigrate on parole status.
My mother grew up in a household with a cook, so learning to
cook was a new adventure. She
would buy an American vegetable from the store and stare at it for hours trying
to figure out how to cook it. But
things got more interesting when we moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan when I was a
toddler. We lived in graduate
student housing as I mentioned earlier.
The graduate students were an international group, and my mother was
regularly invited to socialize with other women from different countries. She learned about different kinds of
food from all over the world. My
parents learned about American pluralism from Ann Arbor. They have never regretted their move
away from Taiwan. I often wonder
what I would be doing if my parents had not come to the United States. What were my options at that time?
Would I have ever made it out of Taiwan to visit other countries? Would I have
gone to college? How many children would I have had? Who would I have married?
What are the stories that I would have told my Taiwanese children?
I can never know what my life would've been. I have a
different set of stories and memories to bring forward. Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the
last rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto, used to enjoy telling stories to children. He
would also tell them that if there was anything that a person was going to do,
if it was the only thing that this person was going to do, it should be to do
somebody a favor. So I will follow
Rabbi Shapira's advice, and do the best that I can by bringing forward the
memories and stories that I do have access to. This is the favor that I perform
for you on behalf of my ancestors.
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