What am I doing here? I’m being assaulted from all sides by old Chinese women gushing about how much taller I’ve grown. Whoever figured it takes fewer muscles to smile than frown was totally full of it because this phony smile is taking tremendous effort. Mandarin Chinese sounds so angry—it’s like everyone around me is threatening to rip each others’ throats out. As if it’s not already loud enough in this cramped room, some politician is on stage rambling about how he cares so much about all of us here in the Taiwan Quasi-Consulate celebrating Taiwan’s Independence Day. I’d love some personal space, but I feel my mother’s manicured claws digging into my shoulder, forcing me into submission.
My mother represented all things Chinese, especially discipline. I perceived her as a vengeful little woman, ripped out of her native culture and thrust into unfamiliar territory, but armed with an explosive temperament on a short fuse. My mother worked her way up to becoming an intimidating presence in the Western world, but she still fell back on her Chinese background when it came to exerting her authority over her family, mostly by dumping her stress on us with her most colorful Chinese curse words. She was like a judge with the manner of an army boot camp instructor, pounding out commands with the jarring blows of a gavel striking the sound block and leaving me trembling. My strict obedience to her laws was imperative, lest my mother transform into the even more terrible form of a dragon lady, shooting flames of wrath that scorch my ears. I had concluded long ago that my mother ordered me to attend these Chinese parties because it increased her power over me. She seemed to draw strength from these concentrations of Chinese culture like a snake basking in the white sun depicted on the gigantic flag of Taiwan hanging on the wall.
Suddenly, a wave of cheers crashes over me and sucks my attention back into this crowded room. The head of the Consulate has just concluded his speech, and some of the partiers begin to flow out onto the lawn. I tear out of my mother’s grasp and locate my dad and sister lounging on the grass, chatting and admiring the beauty of the lush Nu`uanu Valley. I exhale and let the relief wash the venom toward this party and toward my mother out of my system. Looking upward, I gaze in wonder at the pale blue sky, capable of holding a warm sun or violent thunderstorm, but currently clear and serene. Can I be as open as the sky, and let the storm pass so I can find the sun? I wonder. Although I am drained from years of animosity with my mother, I want to gain a fresh perspective.
I observe my mother from a distance. She hops from party to party, chirping away in her sing-song voice, and flocks of her friends welcome and embrace her. My mother’s energy seems to revive those around her, making them strong and youthful. Her tireless smiles are like sunbeams on her friends' faces, making everyone she greets more radiant. People like my mother because she likes herself—her self-assurance sparks confidence in those around her. All around my mother are delightful squeals of “Jinzhen!”—her Chinese name, which translates to “Gold Pearl.” I realize that my mom is just that--a gold pearl.
"Hua, want some food?"
I had not noticed the dull ache in my stomach. I was too busy admiring my mom as she sashayed around the room in her cute dress and three-inch heels. But my dad's question brings me back into what feels like me, only lighter. I cannot shake this realization, and wanting someone to concur, I ask to my dad in a sly voice, “Hey dad, you know you’re with the hottest woman here, right?”
His eyes roam over the crowd until he finds mom laughing playfully. He lets them rest on her and says, “Yep.”
As we leave the party, I feel a feather light touch push my bangs back out of my face and rest on my shoulder.
“Hao buhao wan?” asks my mom, wondering if I had a good time.
“Shide,” I respond, letting her know I did.
“Picture time!” shouts a small man brandishing a large professional-looking camera. It’s our family’s turn to take a picture with the Taiwan Consul-General. I give him a bright, genuine smile that I hope will not pale in comparison to my mom’s glowing pearly whites.
