Reconnecting with Culture
Since moving to the United States in 2011, I have never known how to celebrate the Lunar New Year. It's always during an inconvenient time, a time when folks are busy with work or school, a time when most people are still recovering from the Christian holidays. When I think about the many New Years’ I’ve celebrated in China where I was born, what I could possibly do in the United States pales in comparison.
In China, Chinese New Year is celebrated for a full month. On Chinese New Year’s Eve, the entire country shuts down to party. My family would come together to watch TV (there’s a live program every year full of dancing, singing, and comedy sketches; it’s a real who’s who of Chinese Hollywood), make literally hundreds of dumplings, eat a feast, and set off fireworks on the street. I would be allowed to stay up as late as I wanted - as if anyone could sleep, the fireworks setting off nearly non-stop on every street until 5 or 6am. It’s busy, hectic, and raucous, but it’s also fun and full of love. Some of my best, most cherished memories of my family happened during Chinese New Year.
13 years ago, I became the first person in my family to move to the United States. I have some family in Canada, but I remain the only one from both sides of my family living here. And for 12 Lunar New Years’, I’ve made all sorts of excuses to not celebrate it. Over the years, it’s made me profoundly sad to do nothing on this holiday that used to be such a big deal in my life. It’s become a reminder of how distant I am from my family and how separated I am from my culture of origin. I realized that I have inadvertently reinforced this isolation by making my typical excuses of being too busy, too inconvenient, too much to ask of my friends to do something to celebrate Chinese New Year.
Recently, I started noticing the traditions that my friends practice with their families on the holidays that they celebrate (usually Christmas). I became aware of the many different emotions I felt as I witnessed their families come together. Mostly, I felt envy. My family is very separated now and the chasm seems too large to bridge to celebrate our old traditions. I felt angry; there are systemic barriers keeping me from fully celebrating Chinese New Year. For instance, I was not able to take a long vacation in late January/early February when I was in grad school, and it would be incredibly disruptive and cumbersome to try to do that in my work configuration now. I felt powerless; these obstacles felt too big and complex for me to overcome.
This past February, after reflecting on these complex feelings for years, I decided to do Chinese New Year differently. I wanted to do something, anything, just to break my pattern of emotional overwhelm that results in nothing being done. I decided to do something small, and maybe something fun and silly, to celebrate with my friends. I decided that even if I can’t participate in the old traditions of my family, I can create new traditions with my chosen family in Los Angeles. I decided to host my friends for a Dumpling Party: a potluck dinner in which everyone brings the dumpling from their culture.
My first annual Dumpling Party was a smashing success. My friends brought Turkish mantis, Filipino empanadas, Polish pierogies, Jewish matzo ball soup, Southern chicken and dumplings, and Southern blueberry dumpling dessert. Someone also brought Totino’s pizza rolls as a joke. Many of my friends told me that they learned something new about their culture while preparing for this dinner party. Some of my White friends thought deeply about where their families came from for the first time. Some of my BIPOC friends were excited to share the foods they grew up eating. Some of my BIPOC friends learned that there is, after all, a dumpling-like dish from their culture.
My Chinese New Year dinner this year was delicious. Many anecdotes were shared about the various dumpling dishes. Friends ate together and watched this year’s Chinese New Year television program together. It was not at all like the experience of Chinese New Year when I was a child, but it filled my heart up with warmth and love all the same.
There are systemic barriers to celebrating any minority culture in the United States. In a way, we as individuals are powerless against it. I cannot do the same things I used to do to feel connected to my Chinese heritage. However, I can cultivate a different kind of connection. I learned this year that although it is valid to feel sad about being isolated from my family, and angry that the systems I currently live in make it difficult to stay connected with my culture, I don’t have to let these realities stop me from making my own path to feeling connected and loved. I tried something new and different. The result? A beautiful melting pot of rich culture and delicious food.
I can’t think of a more American thing.
