family
...n exit. Up until about grade 9, I projected my view very similarly to what my parents saw. Family was my only resource of apprehension, awareness and judgement besides school. For the longest time, my conscience made me feel that any way besides the traditional Asian way was erroneous. However, this Asian way had many attitudes that, adapted in today’s world, was proven to be “old thinking” and unethical. For instance, any type of news broadcast I brought up would be wrong until restated in the Vietnamese community newspaper, “Thoi Bao” and going out with friends wasn’t an option because it would damn-sure lead to drugs and pregnancy. This contrast way of thinking between the Western society and the Asians led to issues in our family. Following the examples stated above, we would have problems like communication barriers and my freedom struggle. Soon enough, I learned the notion of evolution and development and I gave into temptation – I no longer believed that having a yellow face should restrict me. I no longer believed in the Asian way. In fact, any way but the Western way was wrong to me at this point. I fought for this belief. The two sides of the family, Western vs. Asian (me vs. my parents), refused to agree to agree or agree to disagree. It was one way or the other. I wanted a modification in the contract. As they realized this was what I wanted, they saw it as a sign of rebellion and fought harder for their ground. They strongly stood beside their beliefs because I am their daughter and I am yellow. We got into an argument about my curfew. Insult and more insults piling on top of more and more injuries, we came to a peak in our relationship that was about to make or break our family. It could’ve easily collapsed and crumbled before our eyes if not structurally supported at that very moment. I closed my salty, swelled eyes and smothered them into my pillow as my parents finally barged through my bedroom door. I held my breath; my face turned purple. All in a time span of an hour and a half, there was swinging, cursing and flying of objects until finally all was silent, they left me in silence and I went to bed. Unethical or not, this was the only way my parents knew “how to raise a good girl”. They didn’t believe in any drastic changes, they believed in order and discipline and this was how it was to be. As soon as I would show any sign of disagreement, they’d cause a wild uproar until I, mimicking their ideal Vietnamese child, agreed. If I fought back, they’d make even more of a pandemonium. They didn’t believe in apologizing or agreeing. This was just how they were and it took many experiences for me to realize this. My mom came into my room before I had waken the next day and she sat by my bed stroking my hair. We just had the most catastrophic fight but it was as though one night of sleep made all the difference in the world. I opened my eyes; my mom smiled at me and said, “Tomorrow you can stay out later.” My dad came in, “Anyone hungry?” It was as though nothing happened. I wanted to break out of my ethnic tradition hold and my parents tried everything to make sure I stayed true to my colour. Although we fought and caused a huge commotion, we are family in the end. My parents and I had differences ...