Write a short story (600 – 1000 words) that describes your sense of home; write about the values and the stories that you use to connect yourself to, and to identify your sense of home.
I chose to write this assignment as a series of vignettes. What started as a project to describe my hometown Richmond turned into a meditation on what it means to feel “at home.” And that’s when I realized that my own city didn’t feel “at home” at all. In fact, it began to feel like a disembodied hand…
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In 2004, my family returned to the rural district of Pun Yu for the latter half of my grandfather’s funeral rites. That first night in a tiny farming village where squat toilets were a rarity, I was greeted by a parade of first, second, and third cousins, “This is your xiang! Welcome home, little sister!” This is home, they insisted. They took me to the Lew family house. They showed me the Lew family record: you are the 32nd generation. They pointed to each other: everyone had the same mole on their right cheek.
Xiang. Roots. Home.
Yet to say that roots are home, regardless of what the Canadian brand says, would not be altogether accurate. The first part of grandfather’s ceremony had taken place in Hong Kong. WWII refugees, my grandparents had uprooted and resettled in Hong Kong, raised a business and a family. Grandma calls Pun Yu xiang, but when the Vancouver chill starts to nip at her bones and grandma tells us that she’s booking the next flight home, we know she means Hong Kong.
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Back in grade one, if you wanted to know where someone came from, you didn’t think about their skin tone, or peer into their lunch box, or do the smartest thing–just ask. You looked at their clothes tag.
Micah was from ‘China.’ Tina’s shirt read ‘Taiwan.’ Shawn came from this mysterious place called ‘Do not Bleach.’
The wisest of us soon suspected that the grade two’s had been pulling our leg, since everyone seemed to come from either China, India, or Taiwan. Regardless, there was one label that stumped us every time, and that was ‘MIC.’ The trick about the MIC was that you could never be sure what “C” stood for. Chile. Cameroon. Czech Republic. Cote D’Ivoire?
When my parents immigrated to Vancouver in the 1990’s, my mother was already six months pregnant with me. So, if I was born with a t-shirt label, it would probably read “MIC.” Made in China? Delivered in Canada? Chinese-born Canadian? Canadian-born Chinese?
In many ways, Richmond too, is horrigably, ambiguously MIC. Located in Canada, but populated by ethnically and (until recently) stoutly non-politically Chinese citizens, it’s been touted as the laid-back, West Coast replica of Hong Kong. Home both is and isn’t Canada.
Oh, and it gets even more complicated.
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“The sad fact is that the history of settlement around the world is a history of displacing other people from their lands.” –Edward Chamberlin
Until UBC Imagine Day, I had never known that my home was built on the “unceded territory of the Musqueam and Squamish people.” What?! The True, North, Strong, and Free not actually free? When my parents settled in Richmond, they were only two in a sea of people who were fleeing the repatriation of Hong Kong in 1997. In a sense, they, like my grandparents, were political refugees as much as immigrants chasing the Canadian Dream. I don’t think my parents were ever aware that their new home was already a contested site, or that their homemaking only perpetuated the homelessness another people.
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So what is home? Richmond is a transplanted tree, twice removed from native soil. Richmond is a disembodied hand, a broken branch. My access to xiang, my cultural heritage and my roots, will always be through the prosthesis of my parents’ memory. And perhaps most troubling of all, to be transplanted is also to be foreign. Richmond, home, is an invasive species.
But I like to think that grafted branches can also bear good fruit, and when the old and the new adapt to one another, the whole tree is made stronger.
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Works Cited:
“3,500 Year Old Tree Transplant.” The Big Trees Blog. Web. 08 Feb. 2016.
Buzard, Kurt. “Myrrh and Frankincense.” Travel To Eat. 28 Dec. 2012. Web. 08 Feb. 2016.
Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?: Reimagining Home and Sacred Space. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim, 2004. Print. 78.
Donne, John. “Meditation XVII.” Devotions Among Emergent Occasions. 1624.
“The Disembodied Hand That Strangled People.” The Calvin and Hobbes Wiki. Web. 08 Feb. 2016.
“Vignette Writing Tips.” Vine Leaves Literary Journal. Web. 08 Feb. 2016.
Hello Beatrice,
Thank you for sharing your story of home. I think that the vignette style supported your theme – that home can be several places. There is the place that you physically live, and then the spaces where you have ancestors and emotional ties.
Like you, I was quite surprised by the deception of the story of Canada – we were all told that it was a young, uninhabited country. We were helping build it by coming here. Little did we know that we were undertaking that story of displacement and making others homeless. Given that the history of Canada, and indeed many countries is one of continual displacement, I like your idea of “grafting” – may we all become hybrid roses, stronger and more beautiful!
Andrea
Hi Andrea!
Thank you for your comments–the connection you made between the vignette style and my cognitively-distributed sense of home was very insightful and one which I was not initially aware of! It seems like your own story of home involves a lot of grafting–you describe the coming together of families with contrasting settler experiences in Canada and who hail from in different socioeconomic stratas and geographical locations. I envy your travel experiences and the chance you had to see the True, North (and South and East and West) Strong and Free in its entirety. Thank you for sharing your experiences–it was a privilege to live vicariously through your story 🙂
Cheers,
Bea
Hi Beatrice,
I loved your story and can relate to some degree. I have spend half of my life in Richmond and still am not quite sure if it is my home. Until recently I had little knowledge about the First Nations history of this land and, as mentioned in my other posts, knew very little about any First Nations history until my letter days of university. Something I find rather troubling.
You were born in Canada, but you have roots, ancestral roots, abroad. It is interesting that some one born and raised in one place could have connections to a home in another. One that they may only visit for brief periods of time.
Despite being born and raised in a place, is it possible to lack a sense of home or a connection with that place? For example, someone born in Richmond, raised in Richmond their whole life, yet no feelings of Richmond being home.
Anyways, I feel as if I am being a bit confusing here. I really enjoyed reading your story. Thank you for sharing!
Alex
Hi Alex
Thanks for reading my post! It is certainly very disconcerting that you had little knowledge about First Nations people and history until fourth year! From what I remember of the BC education system, everyone should have gleaned a basic understanding of European-indigenous relations in North America from Socials 10. However, increased exposure during my university years has convinced me how narrow and biased a perspective our textbooks can provide. I certainly hope that as we continue to pursue truth and reconciliation, revisions will be made to the stories we tell coming generations!
In answer to your question, I think it’s certainly possible for people to feel disconnected from their native land. I have friends who, although local-born, have always dreamed of “relocating” back to Hong Kong. Personally, I’m pretty content with staying in Richmond, but I also know that Richmond fails to encompass all of home.
Thanks again,
Bea