As a 1.5 generation Chinese immigrant, I came to Canada with my parents at the age of 8. I am often faced with questions from others, and the reflective perplexity in which I contemplate these questions while engaging in self-questioning of my own belonging are expressed in this narrative poem.
Who am I, I ask.
Am I Chinese or Canadian?
Do I feel Chinese?
Sometimes…
More so with Canadian friends,
and less so with Chinese friends.
Do I feel Canadian?
I’m not sure…
What is Canadian?
“It’s your overly liberal thoughts,” my parents say.
“It’s the way you dress,” my Chinese friends remark.
I don’t feel Canadian,
I am Canadian.
I feel Chinese,
Am I Chinese?
“Yes, yes you are! That’s where you’re from!
You’re not Canadian, you are Chinese.”
But I’m from Toronto too,
Can’t I be both?
What does it mean to be both?
Have I become more Canadian over the years?
What about you, fellow newcomer?
Do you feel more Chinese now?
Will you become more Canadian?
Are you met with rejections?
Overlooked;
Invisible, like you don’t exist.
Excluded from conversations;
Never addressed first.
No, not rejections;
Silences, looks, giggles, and
Questions-
“Where are you really from?”
Is that a rejection?
Seen as the perpetual foreigner;
A high achieving, hardworking foreigner,
A soon to be successful middle-class candidate.
What is there to complain about?
Perpetual foreigner,
Do you belong?
Do I belong?
Where do I belong?
I constantly question