Living Outside the Box

Living Outside the BoxAbigail Andersen

Growing up in America as a minority, there was always a sense of feeling like I didn’t belong. Whether or not you were born here, how long you’ve lived here, or what languages you speak, there’s a constant sense of feeling like the odd one out. Over the few months I have been at Emerson, I’ve seen firsthand the active racial discrimination at this predominantly white institution. And that has also made me think about my Aunt’s experiences growing up as a first-generation immigrant in the ’70s; not just her experiences during that time but how that also affected the way she raised my sister and I, two adopted children from China. Being adopted by two white parents, it was difficult for me to feel

connected and comfortable with either one of my cultures, a task that my aunt took. Racial inequality and discrimination have always been a pressing issue in the world. And for my Aunt she has a very interesting list of experiences growing up in the 70’s. For context, she is not my biological Aunt. Early on, she was originally my mom’s gym trainer. Originally she was my mom’s gym trainer, but was later hired by my mom to work for her production company as an assistant/secretary. When my mom said that she was adopting two babies from China, my Aunt made it clear that she did not want to be put in any sort of nanny position. But when we arrived, she was the first to hold us and switched career gears from assistant to guardian and family caretaker. She taught us about our culture and what to expect as a minority in America through sharing her own experiences. She and her 5 siblings were all first-generation immigrants in their family. As I grew up, she would tell me stories of the racism she would face on a day-today basis and how she learned to handle it. In the ‘70s, my aunt faced a lot of extreme

discrimination and violence as a minority. She would share stories of her walking to and from school and being chased and mocked while having racial slurs spat at her face. She shared with me the story of when her church experienced a shooting, explaining to me the urgency of ducking and covering for her life, only because of how her family looked, lived, and spoke. As I grew up, she taught me to learn more about Chinese culture and how she dealt with discrimination. The way she approached it was to keep her head down and not fight back. Granted, that headspace was what saved her life in that church. I remember this one summer after a tragic shooting in a hair salon, my aunt drove me outside of the city. When I asked her where we were going, she explained with a stone-cold face, “They’re killing us, we’re getting pepper spray.” She explained that we would only ever be seen as “the other” or the odd ones out. We would only be seen as people whose language and words meant nothing, constantly having our voices stomped on. Though I am Asian by blood, I feel unwelcome in both white and Asian communities. I was adopted when I was 14 months old and I remember nothing

from before the age of 4 when I was already living in Pasadena, California (a very white community just outside of the more diverse areas in Los Angeles). I did not know that I was adopted until I was 6 years old. I was asked by my classmates why I didn’t look like either of my parents. I was young and I did actually believe that I would somehow grow up to look like my father who had light grey/white hair or my mother with red hair. Simultaneously, the Asian students in school outcasted me when I wouldn’t understand what they were saying if they spoke to me in Chinese. From that moment on, my Aunt dedicated her time raising me to ensure that I was going to be more in touch with both of my cultures. I feel as though I have gotten a taste of different cultures, being Asian American and raised by two white parents. It’s difficult to feel welcome in either bubble, however I feel like my Aunt sharing her experiences has helped me feel more aware of my reality as a minority and the privilege that I have having white parents. Although society taught me that I will only ever be considered as the ‘other’ in my own country and will try to bubble me, I know that is not the truth.