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Mixed, Raced and Confused

My mother is Chinese. My father is Scottish. Which makes me half Chinese, half Scottish. I didn’t always see it this way. As a child, I saw myself as either one or the other. How do I explain my confusion with being identified with being Chinese or being white? Would it make sense if I were to say that at certain periods and in certain places, I would try hard to fit in by being whatever others were. For example, when I lived in Hong Kong, I would call myself Chinese; when I lived in Australia, I would call myself white. Yet, in certain periods of my childhood and in particular countries, I would try hard to be different from what others were. For example, the situations would be the same, but my sentiment reversed: In Hong Kong, I would call myself white; in Australia, I would call myself Chinese. You probably have a puzzled look on your face. Like I said, I’m not sure if I’m able to articulate clearly the reasons for these clashes in sentiment.

I remember as a kid in Hong Kong, I longed to look Asian. I envied the other school kids with their jet-black hair, soft white skin, and super neat handwriting. It’s true, their handwriting looked like perfectly stencilled work next to my sloppy chicken-scratch. There was also a brief period when I thought all Asians looked the same – and I imagine some Asians think all white people look the same. When I moved to foreign countries I would start to distance myself from my Asian pedigree when I found myself surrounded by white people. I never felt ashamed of either race. I just always had this urge to fit in. At birth, I was given the name, Jack. In Hong Kong, I was called Jackie, as this was quite common there. I didn’t mind being called Jackie when I was little because Jackie Chan was in fact, my hero. But to my horror, I found out by a classmate in Scotland that Jackie was a girl name in the UK. So I immediately distanced myself from the name, Jackie, and insisted I be called Jack from that moment on. So, I was no longer Jackie, I was Jack. I was no longer Chinese. I was Scottish. I had no concept of being half Chinese, half Scottish; it was either one or the other.

But within a short span of time, I’d do a complete 180 and long for my Asian roots and cling on to anything that reminded me of Hong Kong. I would re-watch all of my mum’s old video recordings of Chinese movies and canto-pop performances (which my Dad had packed for me when we moved away). If people asked where I was from, I would say “Hong Kong” and say that I was Chinese. I would be proud of this too. I would switch back and forth between being Asian and being white multiple times. I know I’m still not explaining why this was the case, I’m just saying what I would do. The truth is, I don’t know why. At some point in my late teens, I came to accept I was of mixed race. This rigid dichotomy between being Chinese and being white seemed to dissolve. The wall was torn down. There were no life-changing moments of enlightenment or changes in character. Life resumed course at the same speed and in the same manner as it always had. I simply felt fine with being half Chinese, half Scottish. In fact, I embraced being Eurasian and felt proud for what I saw as having the best of both worlds. Granted, while moving countries continuously throughout childhood certainly gave me a worldly view, I still consider my Asian and Western genes and upbringing to give me an even greater appreciation for different cultures.

Being brought up with two different sets of value systems did mould my character. Chinese families traditionally embrace the idea of a closely-knit family. Parents reinforce the importance of close family ties by very closely looking after their children well beyond the point of adulthood, and are still very much involved in all aspects of their children’s family affairs. Western families tend to let more slack on the leash over their children, which fosters greater independence on the part of the children. Some may remark the Western family unit is less close, thus, colder. However, I find it better prepares the child for the realities of adulthood. At least, these are my views from my own experience. I was raised by my Dad from birth right through to my late teens. Since I left Hong Kong at the age of 8, I had no contact with my mother until I turned 18, so I did not truly become acquainted with Chinese family values firsthand until well past my formative years. Being raised by my father definitely made me into a much more independent person. He told me he had dropped out of high school and left the house at the age of 15. So, I always expected that once I turned 18, I would be off on my own. I started earning my own keep at the age of 14 and was out of the house at the age of 17, but that’s a different story altogether.

While I did struggle with the concept of being of mixed race growing up, I found I was able to eventually accept myself for who I was without categorizing myself by race. I think that the more of a melting point our society becomes, the less ethnicity and race are used as a category of analysis to identify with one another. My name is Jack. I am half Chinese, half Scottish. Some mornings I wake up and feel Asian and other mornings I feel white.

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