The Margins | Growing Up in the 626
In Arcadia, CA, weekends are the province of Asian-American overachievers. I know this because I was one of them. Sort of.
One Saturday afternoon in seventh grade, a bunch of us gathered at a classmate’s house to work on our project for the Odyssey of the Mind competition. All of us were Chinese. People chatted casually about homework sets in their advanced math classes or complained about having to go to Chinese school instead of watching Saturday-morning cartoons. I liked being in on these teenage grievances even though they weren’t my own.
On that particular Saturday, a joke was made in Mandarin. But I didn’t speak the language and the joke was lost on me. In the wake of my classmates’ raucous laughter I felt acutely aware of my difference.