ABSTRACT
As Chinese Americans growing up in a predominately White neighborhood, my sister and I socialized primarily with White children. In fact, the only Chinese Americans we knew were either relatives or old family friends who were like family. Although we often ate Chinese food and occasionally even spoke Chinese at home, our family rarely talked about being Chinese. One day when my sister, Leslie, was in kindergarten, she came home from school and asked our mother about her ethnicity. I will never forget that day. Our mother was cooking, and I was setting the table when Leslie came into the kitchen and asked our mother, “What am I ” Because our mother seemed a bit confused, my sister then said, “You know, what am I Am I Mexican or what ” Suddenly, comprehending the nature of Leslie’s question, our mother answered by saying, “Oh honey, you are Chinese. Mommy is Chinese. Daddy is Chinese. Stacey is Chinese….” After our mother rattled out a series of examples that included most of our living relatives, she asked my sister why she had asked her question. I could tell by our mother’s expression that she was afraid that one of the White children was picking on her youngest child, but Leslie quickly explained that a “Chinese boy named Larry asked.” Apparently, Larry was aware that he was different from the White kids at school. Furthermore, he recognized my sister as being like him and wanted to confirm his hunch. The next day when Leslie informed Larry that she was Chinese, he quickly asked her to be his girlfriend. He also told her that he was not surprised to find out that she was Chinese because she “looked Chinese.” A few months after this incident, our family learned from Larry’s mother that she encouraged Larry to play with Chinese children.
