It's just a name

In Chinese culture, your name is given to you by your parents, and it usually expresses their hopes for your future. Each word has a different meaning. When combined, the meaning can change. Your surname, which is spoken first when stating your name, is very important, as it is a name passed down from many generations of your elders. My surname, Wong, is represented by the character 黄, which means yellow.

I was not given a Chinese name by my parents. Initially, I never questioned why this was the case, or even the significance of such an action. I brought it up to my parents a few times when I was younger, but they always told me that they simply did not see why it would be relevant, given that I was growing up in America. They always told me that it’s just a name, and that it was not such a big deal. Over time, I stopped asking because their answers never changed.

I would come to realize that this was just one of the many cultural chasms that existed between different generations of my family. In his interview with NPR, John Cho speaks about how the desire to absorb American culture led to differences with his immigrant parents growing up, but differences between me and my parents primarily stemmed from their desire that I not be overly immersed in my cultural background.

Like my fellow writer, Simran, my parents came to the United States give me a better life. I came eventually to realize that my parents also came to America in order not to be associated with China. While I did speak Chinese growing up, and my parents still use the language often, my mother in particular often purposefully avoided buying food products that were made in China. She also spoke in English to waiters at Chinese restaurants, though she often then reverted to using Chinese. I came to realize that she was not particularly proud of her upbringing and where she was raised. Surprisingly, I learned that these feelings are not uncommon among Chinese Americans, as reflected in this study, which shows that most Asian-Americans have favorable views of their hometowns, Chinese-Americans being the exception.

As I did not really need to use Chinese beyond interacting with family members, I didn’t think too much of these things. They did not impact my daily life until I came to law school. In my 1L year, my Chinese friends marveled at the fact that I did not have a Chinese name, as it was so crucial to their identity. Learning about Asia from them and ultimately being around them and using Mandarin more really made me reflect on my lack of a connection to my own ethnicity.

What made me reflect even more profoundly, however, was my grandfather’s funeral this past summer.



From the photo I took of the funeral wreath, half-covered by my finger, you can see that all my cousins have a Chinese name except for me. I remember sitting in the funeral home with my family members and honestly feeling ashamed that my name was written out in English. I was particularly ashamed given that some of my family members could not even speak English, let alone read or write it. While I did not fault my parents for their actions, I realized that I would need to take active steps to change this part of my life after that day.

What I now realize is that I would like to make my culture a bigger part of my life, and that the onus is on me, and me alone to make that happen. While I have not finalized my plans for next fall, I hope to study abroad at Tsinghua University in Beijing. If I get the opportunity to do so, I will continue to improve upon my understanding of my ethnic background, regardless of what my parents originally may have wanted for me.