Posted by: m94r
« on: May 31, 2023, 02:52:15 pm »https://www.cbc.ca/television/i-was-ashamed-of-being-chinese-learning-about-my-ancestors-first-years-in-canada-changed-that-1.6858176
I was ashamed of being Chinese. Learning about my ancestors' first years in Canada changed that.
Racist apartheid colonials are definitely experts at making non-"whites" not feel part of the country in which they were born in. I understand the deep pain that comes with feeling like an outsider in ones own country, a pain which i don't think I'll ever be able to forgive those who have made me endure this, **** the commonwealth.
I was ashamed of being Chinese. Learning about my ancestors' first years in Canada changed that.
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For the first 37 years of my life, I'd lived confidently believing that my family, like many Chinese Canadians, had begun our lives in Canada as part of a wave of immigration from Hong Kong and beyond during the 1970s. And then last year, in the middle of the pandemic and amid a surge of anti-Asian sentiment, I started to dig deeper into my family's past and discovered that it wasn't our first time as settlers in Canada. Our story began more than 100 years ago, in the era of the Chinese Head Tax and The Chinese Exclusion Act, when the government was determined to prevent people who looked like me from becoming citizens of this country.
As a young jook-sing — a Cantonese slang phrase for a Western-born and/or raised Chinese person who identifies more with Western than Chinese culture — in north Scarborough, I was more concerned about erasing all traces of my Chinese identity than learning about where my family came from. And you can imagine why. You see, I never saw myself in North American media, TV or film. There were never any stories that were by and about people like me. The only portrayals of Asians at the time were pumped full of stereotypical tropes: yellow-facing in shows such as Kung Fu starring David Carradine, we were background extras that were weak and sex-less, and/or we were the evil, conniving "Fu Manchu" character. I became so ashamed of being Chinese that it was easier for me to come to terms with my queer identity at 13 years old than my ethnic background.
Back in school, little was taught about Chinese Canadians (let alone stories from Indigenous peoples and other non-European communities) in history class. If we were mentioned, it was one tiny, you-had-to-find-it-using-a-magnifying-glass, paragraph about the Chinese Head Tax or Chinese working on the railway. From the education system to pop culture, zero value was placed on the stories of Chinese Canadians; it's no wonder my impressionable young mind thought this meant that my family and I didn't matter, and didn't belong here.
But my world changed last year: I became a born-again Asian. Like so many of my fellow Asian Canadians, I was grappling with the anti-Asian racism that reared its ugly head during the pandemic. In doing so, I began to reclaim the Chinese heritage that I had shunned my whole life.
On arrival, he was forced to pay the $500 Chinese Head Tax to enter the country.
He was eager to bring his family to this land and begin a life together, but those dreams were stolen from him in 1923 with the introduction of The Chinese Immigration Act (commonly called the Chinese Exclusion Act), which banned the entry of virtually all Chinese immigrants. It was the first and only immigration law that banned entry by race, and it would keep people like my great-grandfather, other naturalized Chinese immigrants and born-and-raised-in-Canada Chinese from bringing over their families until the law was repealed in 1947.
During this time, white people, specifically from Commonwealth nations, were given huge financial incentives to become settlers in Canada. With The Empire Settlement Act of 1922, the Canadian government entered into an agreement with the British government to subsidize their citizens to work in Canada and to ensure "British values" dominated. These British immigrants were even encouraged to bring over friends and acquaintances, while people like my great-grandfather, who had paid dearly to enter Canada, were forced to become "married bachelors," unable to bring over even their most immediate family members.
For many Asian Canadians, the pandemic forced us to confront some uncomfortable truths. From being blamed for giving the world "Kung flu", asked, "Where are you from? No, where are you really from?" our entire lives, to seeing our elders violently attacked and others killed, it's become clear that no matter how integrated we are in Canadian society, we are first viewed as Asian — foreign, never quite fully belonging or loyal to this country. I've had to acknowledge this othering and finally start to unpack the racism I'd internalized since childhood.
With this year marking 100 years since the Chinese Immigration Act was passed, I have begun to take pride in my background. Having pieced together my own family's journey to Canada, I am able to paint a better picture of where I descended from so I can honour my ancestors and their sacrifices.
My ancestors — like my great-grandfather Lee Chuen Oy — were brave and strong. They faced an unwelcoming environment and they persevered. They were resilient in the face of adversity, never once complaining about the racist society and government[they should have complained] that stole their dreams when they were trying to build lives, businesses and families.
It took me 37 years but I can now finally say that I have never been more proud to be Chinese Canadian
Racist apartheid colonials are definitely experts at making non-"whites" not feel part of the country in which they were born in. I understand the deep pain that comes with feeling like an outsider in ones own country, a pain which i don't think I'll ever be able to forgive those who have made me endure this, **** the commonwealth.