Michelle So
Reading immigrant stories as a child, I would feel confused about a recurring theme that appeared almost incessantly. That is, getting bullied over an overly “ethnic” lunch. The thought that children would get excluded over the contents of their lunch pails annoyed me, frankly, because it seemed so shallow, so immature.
Growing up in Arcadia, where over half the population consists of immigrants, I never felt out of place. When I was younger, I would accompany my mother on grocery runs to the local Chinese market. There, we’d make twists and turns through the aisles of produce, stopping by the meat section where a butcher—yes, an actual butcher—would hand us fresh cuts of tilapia or pork ribs. With a cartload of ingredients in tow, my mother and I would return home, where she’d cook a large pot of gaa lei (curry) for dinner. Most nights, with the hot flame of gaa lei fresh on our tongues, we’d pack the dish with rice to savor the next day. That was exactly the kind of lunch I would, and still, bring to school.
Although I have never faced judgment for my non-American meals, I still wonder why this continues to be a problem. Eating culturally rich food shouldn’t invalidate one’s title to being a “true American.” The U.S.’s role as a multi-ethnic melting pot continually demonstrates the beauty of diversity. Especially right now, when so much sets us apart, finding our commonalities and holding close to them is crucial.
In search of others’ experiences—and pictures of delicious meals—I went around campus to see how other students at AHS view acceptance in the community through food.
Sophomore Joss Lau believes that diversity in schools gives students exposure to other cultures, allowing for a greater capacity for understanding. Lau herself identifies as Chinese-American.
“I’m ABC, American-born-Chinese,” she said. The term refers to children of first-generation Chinese immigrants born in the U.S. I, too, have heard the phrase used endearingly by relatives and restaurant servers alike. ABCs are somewhere in the middle, conflicted between identifying as Chinese, like our immigrant relatives, or as Americans, as we are expected to.
Unlike some, Lau is comfortable with the foods she brings to school. Today, her thermos contains rice, yook baeng (meatloaf), and ong choy (water spinach). She explained that her mother put together the meal, so she had no intentions of wasting any part of it. Bringing up how Asian foods are sometimes negatively perceived in America, I asked if she has ever felt different because of what she brings for lunch.
“My culture is something I grew up with, and naturally, there really isn't anything to be embarrassed about,” Lau said.
Her willingness to embrace her cultural roots strikes me as unique, seeing as many ABC children try to come off as “more American” than Chinese. I have witnessed students tossing out their perfectly delicious homemade meals to get school lunch. Why anyone would opt for school food, a whole other discussion topic itself, is a mystery.
“Why should you feel embarrassed over what you're eating?” Lau asked. “You're all eating food, right?”
Lau’s point is a good reminder that while we may seem distant, our similarities still bind us together. As Arcadia continues to welcome high numbers of immigrants, we must continue to embrace and offer acceptance towards each other. After all, food, no matter from which culture, is still food. It may look a little different and be harder to pronounce for some, but in the end, food is the way to the soul.