Dear Me,
You may notice I am writing these letters to you in English (of course lol) — my second language. Why? Because of love, simple and definite. You must know there is no reason for love, right? And love is complicated, no matter it is second or first. My love for English, and Chinese, is complicated, no matter it is second or first.
Microaggression
I learned a new English word “microaggression”. Meaning? Well, microaggression, obviously, haha. I was taking a mental health volunteer training class and one of the courses is about racism. Yes, “microaggression” is about racism. If you are into Wikipedia:
Microaggression is a term used for brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative prejudicial slights and insults toward any group, particularly culturally marginalized groups.
Like love, this is also a complicated term. People are still debating about it. I am not gonna debate here (with myself). Research shows that people, especially minorities, are experience microaggressions in their daily life. Little by little, these microaggressions can lead to or worsen one’s mental health in a macro way. What’s worse, people say they can handle obvious and intentional acts of racism, but when it comes to less obvious and unconscious bias, they don’t know what to do or even what it is, and if they say or do anything, they would be considered as “oversensitive”.
I am an HSP — Highly Sensitive Person, luckily, a rational HSP (you got it, I am complicated). Though, I am insensitive to racism, not to say microaggressions. Or, I am just lucky. I’ve always been living, working, around with people, diverse, nice, and fun people in the past seven years in the United States. I don’t think I’ve ever personally experienced racism, except for one time.
“Why don’t you go back to your country?”
I was volunteering at a suicide hotline, in March, when covid-19 started spreading at a speed that people can’t ignore anymore. Someone I was on the phone with for only one minute requested speaking to another volunteer, I said ok and suggested him to call again in a minute. When I was about to hang up:
“Hmm, you, why don’t you, why don’t you go back to your country”. No, he was not yelling at me, at not all. It was almost like murmuring, totally out of my expectation. I was expecting something violent, at least loud, just a bit louder. Murmuring like that? Coward.
Unfortunately, there were quite a lot of violent and loud verbal and even physical acts of racism happening in the country when people were calling covid-19 “China Virus”. The racism was not just towards the Chinese but all Asians, with yellow skin.
By the way, isn’t it stupid? Do people think they can know another human being just by looking at the color of their skin? This was also the first time I was afraid of wearing masks. Now, we are afraid of not wearing masks.
“Why don’t you go back to your country?” is an example of microaggression (maybe a bit obvious version). Other similar examples are “Where are you from?”, “Where are you really from”, and “Where are you from from”.
Don’t you think these questions are getting more and more philosophical? I love thinking about them, “Where am I from”, “Who am I” and “Where am I going”, the top three philosophical philosophy questions.
What was my response to “Why don’t you go back to your country”?
“Okay, bye”, simple and definite.
“Your English is pretty good.“
I’ve been told many times, “Your English is pretty good”. I would take it as a compliment every time, and I would say thank you, sincerely. Though there would be some unknown weirdness. People say that’s also “microaggression”.
I think I am just being responsible for myself. Been living, studying, and working in the United States for almost seven years, not to mention, the time I spent before came here, learning, listening, reading, writing, and speaking English, I would be irresponsible if I can’t speak English okay enough.
I do have an accent, a weird one, a mix of Korean, Japanese, Russian and French, based on the feedback from other people. Told you I am complicated, even my accent is complicated.
I still take “Your English is pretty good” as a compliment. I don’t think the world or anything is it is what it is, but it is what one interprets it is. I interpret in a way that works for me. Well, it would be another story if the microaggression or racism is towards my people, my family, or my country.
Anyways, I welcome and I am desperate for feedback, criticism, or even complaints about my English. Do you see the fire in my heart? Did I say I love English?
I love English.
“I love your writing the most. Shhh. It’s a secret.”
I love writing. I love writing in Chinese, and in English. Language to me is a tool, besides Chinese, English, Korean, Japanese, Russian, French, or other languages, I also see movies, music, painting, and dance as languages. A language is a communication tool. We use it to communicate with our inner selves, with our loved ones, with acquaintances or strangers, and with the universe.
Language is more than a tool. No, it is not a privilege, not at all. It is like a brain. It is the brain of human beings’ activities, thoughts, and more importantly, cultures. Sadly, many languages are disappearing, one by one.
I love languages. I love Chinese and English. I’ve been writing different kinds of writings in Chinese since I was little. I would write in my mind, like speaking to myself. I still do, sometimes, I use English when writing in my mind.
I’ve written tons of English articles or whatever you wanna call it during my study. Since I started working, I published academic papers and professional articles in English, about tech, product, or design. What I hadn’t written in English but I’ve been writing a lot in Chinese would be my own weird feelings and random thoughts, non-tech, or using a fancy term “Creative Writing”.
I don’t think I am being creative since it’s all about everyday life and pieces of images that I am unable to remember. I just want to record every image in case I forget. There are stories behind every image.
I took my very first creative writing class at Stanford three years ago. When I was writing my first piece, non-tech and creative writing, in English, my second language, I was thrilled.
I can’t stop.
I’ve been falling in love with it, writing in English, my second language.
I love feeling my weird feelings in English. I love letting the word out bird by bird following my random thoughts in the English way. I love reciting my own English writing, out loud, and hearing myself speaking in English.
I can’t stop.
When I was writing out the feelings, emotions, pains, and fears deep inside, playing pieces of terrifying images that I was resisting for so long again and again in my brain, it’s so therapeutic. I wasn’t able to write out some of them in Chinese. I tried.
Been one of the two non-native English speakers in the creative writing class, I received so many compliments from the instructor and other classmates. No doubt, those are compliments, sincere compliments, and writer-to-writer compliments.
“I love your writing the most. Shhh. It’s a secret.”
It was written by an American, a real American. I almost cried.
Thank you for the love. Thank English for loving me back, in your way. Chinese? Do you see the fire in my heart? My love for Chinese is unstoppable.
I can’t stop, writing in my mind, on paper or on the keyboard. I have so much to learn, and far more to practice. It’s far more than enough. I will make mistakes, if you are bothered by any, let me know. I welcome feedback. I am desperate for any feedback, criticism, or complaint. I just want to write, and write better, simple and definite.
Well, compliments will also be appreciated, like “Your English is pretty good.”
Don’t worry. I won’t take this as a microaggression.
So, leave a comment? Or, write back to me? I would be thrilled.
(Originally published on July 7, 2020 on Substack)
