Source: Me.
I’m trying to hang on Cantonese and Mandarin as much as possible, but it’s so fucking hard because Cantonese is so triggering of my traumatic memories, and Mandarin just reminds of the CCP. Like… in my mind its so hard to separate langage from parents or a regime.
Oh yeah, this is super relatable.
I have a very complicated relationship with my heritage. (I come from a Middle Eastern country.)
As a teen I would stay up at night wishing I was white (because my white friends’ parents were OK with me being queer. They showed me a kind of love my life was so sorely lacking in.)
Whenever I’d come home I’d have to put the proverbial mask back on, but no matter what, I couldn’t work my way out of being a disappointment to the family. I felt like a prisoner in my own house and I knew other people had it different.
My mother also used to throw my medication (antidepressants) away because “chemicals bad” and it’ll “ruin [my] brain”, essentially. And so I’d deal with withdrawal too.
I was victimised by a combination of difficult life circumstances, and (really, mostly) a rigid, conservative, and intolerant culture.
As an adult now, my feelings about this are not so black and white; I am proud of where I’m from. But I do feel for younger me. And I’m still damaged from my childhood. Always will be.