Huffington Magazine Issue 18 | Page 32

Voices the local beach with us professors as special guests. Once we were there, after the barbecue, they wanted to build a fire near the water and gather to play games and sing songs. But although they knew an assortment of Western pop tunes and were mourning the passing of Michael Jackson, what they wanted the group to belt out under the stars were patriotic Chinese Communist Party songs. Needless to say, I did not know even a single line. I gave them several reasons for why I would have to pass up their invitation, but first and foremost, I’m from Detroit. That’s the wrong part of the world to be learning patriotic Chinese songs. And my family was on the other side of the Communist Revolution. If I knew any patriotic Chinese songs, they probably would not be Communist Party songs. In the weeks I spent with them, my students overcame their curiosity—and their confusion. One of them eventually said, “You’re American. You just look Chinese.” In their conception, you had to be one or the other. Unlike in Taiwan or Hong Kong, where everyone FRANK H. WU HUFFINGTON 10.14.12 has a cousin or two in the United States, Australia or Canada, most mainland Chinese have not encountered someone who claims to be both Chinese and American. In their newfound nationalism, that is an absurd assertion. There is no distinction between culture and politics. To be Chinese is to be Chinese through and through. Sometimes my friends who are not of Asian descent say to me, “If China beats the United States, you’ll be all set.” It’s just the opposite. If China becomes the dominant superpower and the United States is relegated to secondary status, then it means every decision One my family has made of them for three generations eventually turns out to be wrong. said, ‘You’re My grandparents fled American. China for Taiwan, my You just look parents emigrated Chinese.’” from Taiwan to America and I assimilated as best as I could. I’ve placed almost all of my bets on my homeland. I’d have a slight advantage, I suppose, in recognizing what to order at dim sum. Otherwise, an ascendant China means I would have to scramble