I've been reading The Joy Luck Club after seeing the tailend of the televised version a few years ago. I remember the ending and the mother killing her baby by drowning it. However, that may not be true at all, considering I am only halfway through the book and television does have a tendency to distort books for whatever purposes.
The book makes me cold with how how close I was to being one of the stories of the mother.... but I find myself in the stories of the daughters. I can actually feel my cheeks burn in shame as I read the ignorant assumptions the daughters made about their mothers. How many times have I assumed because of my mother's lack of proper English that she was foolish and backwards? More times than I'm willing to admit.
To make matters worse, I've known my mother's story for a very long time and, yet, I still say stupid things about her or ignore her completely.
Perhaps the worst part of it is that I forget that I am half Vietnamese. I am so loudly opinionated and wrapped up in my college life that I forget there is more to me. Since I was a little girl, I have done everything in my power to not let anyone know my middle name, which is my mother's maiden name. When people do know it, I grow embarrassed and try to laugh it off as joke.
The truth is, I never was comfortable with the image of being a Vietnamese girl. I tend to forget about it a lot, even though I look in the mirror every morning. It is rather easy to do, since I only know my father's side of the family and none of my friends have been Asian in any way.
If I have acknowledged my heritage it has been for furthering my purposes. Like for college, I have a scholarship which a primary qualification is that I am considered a "minority." Other times have been with guys when I wanted attention. Nothing is cuter than a giggling Asian girl whose features are Oriental but not too much so that it's completely foreign.
I've done some solid writing tonight. Now to sleep.
