You’ve read the ABCs of animals and trees, 

Perhaps even the ABCs of…democracy. 

But what about the ABCs of being an ABC?

America Born but your family’s Chinese,

And to make matters worse, you’re raised in between.

So come along on this journey from A to Z,

Of what it means to be an American–Born–Chinese.

A is for Accent

Americans will expect an accent when you speak English. Your relatives will expect no accent when you speak Mandarin. Neither expectation manifests. 

B is for Banana

Yellow on the outside, white on the inside. This metaphor isn't very hard to figure out, but its reality can be quite confusing. Parents warn you about becoming one, yet remind you of the benefits in doing so. Sometimes, you’ll wish you could just be white all-around. 

C is for Chink

A slur that almost seems like it isn’t. You’ll learn to tolerate it from friends and ignore it from strangers. You can try explaining its xenophobic and hateful undertones, but few will care. Pro tip: calling it the “Chinese n-word” will help them understand–but be warned, some just laugh and remind you: “it’s just a joke”.

D is for Duality

Every choice in your life is now a negotiation between two identities. At home, you’ll respect your parents, observe Chinese tradition, and try your best to speak their language. From outside this dome of conformity, you’ll transform into an independent person versed in pop culture and 

celebrity drama. Dr. Jekyll would be proud. 

E is for Education

The main reason your parents brought you to America, and the one they’ll be sure to remind you about. You’ll know the phrase by heart: “Good grades, good college, good career, good future”. Bringing home A’s pleases them, so you’ll study passionately throughout high school. You spend hours into the night working; you’ll rewrite drafts of essays until they’re flawless. By the time college starts, you’ll start to wonder whose dream you’re actually fulfilling. 

F is for FOB

“Fresh off the Boat”. It’s a strange phrase, especially since most immigrants opt for planes nowadays. Teachers will ask you to guide these new kids around school, but you’ll come up with an excuse to distance yourself from such a painful reminder of your own insecurities. 

G is for Guilt

This will prevent you from taking control of your own life. After all, your parents sacrificed everything for you–you’re obligated to do the same for them. 

H is for Hyphenated

Chinese–American. It was intended to symbolize the harmony between two cultures, to connect your two ethnicities. Instead, it’s an ugly reminder that you’ll never truly belong to either. 

I is for Ivies

You’ll know the names of these eight colleges before you even learn about the SAT. Your parents give reassurances that if you’re rejected, they’ll still be proud of you. But will they keep that promise? And even if they do, will you be proud of yourself? 

J is for  Joy–Luck Club

The token novel taught in American high schools to make ABCs feel seen. It’s neat how this book condenses the lives of 5 million Chinese–Americans into one tidy narrative–maximum efficiency, right? At least it’s more relevant to you than The Good Earth…

K is for Kumon Institute of Education

You’ll adamantly deny having gone to this institution, laughing at the trope of “Kumon trauma”. Deep down, you’ll be grateful for the hours spent toiling on worksheets in the brightly lit learning center, well aware it’s the reason behind your stellar grades in Math and English. 

L is for Looks

Hundreds of dollars will be squandered on hair products, scents, and clothes, all in the hopes of blending in with your more traditionally-American friends. Your parents will criticize you for wasting time on outward appearances; time should be spent studying. In the end, no matter how much gel you put on your spiky hair, you’ll never get it as smooth as Zac Efron’s. 

M is for Model Minority

ICE deportations rise and you start to worry, but your friends reassure you that you’re not the “type” they’re after. Chinese people are too successful and beneficial to the economy to be targeted, they say. But what if you don’t become a real life Crazy Rich Asian when you’re older? Can you still hide under the myth of the model minority?

N is for Names

You get three, that’s the rule. One Chinese, given to you at birth. You’ll whisper it in hushed tones to close friends and watch as they try to mimic the syllables and accents, nodding along with their tragic (yet well-meaning) attempts. One nickname that, while still Chinese, holds more affection. Your parents and relatives back home primarily use this one. One American, used out of necessity to avoid awkward introductions (and to save your teachers the embarrassment of phonetically sounding out your name when taking attendance). Unsure what to put down for this one? Just think of once popular white people's names! Richard, Alice, Alan, Christopher, etc.

O is for Origin

The one question you’ll never escape: “Where are you from?” Just to mess with them, say “Alabama, I’m a redneck”. They’ll respond with a forced chuckle followed by a: “No, but really, where are you from?” At this point you can either continue entertaining the facade by responding with a Scandinavian country or just tell them what they want to hear. Either way, you’ll end up hearing the classic, “I knew it!” You’ll then want to scream at the person for having wasted your time with a question they already knew the answer to. Try not to, because you’ll end up regretting it. 

P is for Praise

The one thing you crave more than social media. Your parents dish this out inconsistently and unemotionally. A simple “not bad” is enough to satiate you, while a “you exceeded my expectations” shoots you to the moon. As you grow older, you’ll realize that a deprivation of praise is the reason for your clinginess, overcommitment, and perpetual need for validation. Looking at you, Simu Liu. 

Q is for Questions 

As if the ubiquitous origin question wasn’t enough, there’s more! Here’s a couple more that you’ll likely encounter: “Wait, you’re Chinese! Are you communist?” And “How is your English so good?” And “Do you know how to make dumplings?” And “Are you going to be a lawyer, doctor, or engineer?” Although, to be fair, the last one is pretty reasonable (and likely). 

R is for Return

When you return to China, you’ll inevitably feel many conflicting emotions. You’ll feel alienated talking to cousins you barely know, sad when you realize your grandparents have aged, confused when strangers recognize you, and ashamed that you can’t remember the names of gift-bearing relatives. 

S is for Stereotypes

Perpetuated by Hollywood movies and YouTube creators alike. The worst part? Many stereotypes become a sort of double standard. Got an A in math? It’s in your genetics; you’re supposed to be good at math. Got a B on your quadratics test? You’re so stupid. 

T is for Tutoring

So. Many. Tutors. SAT tutors, AP tutors, Spanish tutors, calculus tutors. So many that, by the end of the week, your mind won’t be able to keep up with the constant flow of new information. And when you’re not being tutored, you tutor, whether it’s for the money, service hours, resume fodder (don’t forget the Ivies are looking for a well-rounded student), or the ego boost from having a fifth grader look at you like you’re Einstein.

U is for Unwelcome

Sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant. You’ll (hopefully) never encounter it outright, but many-a-time you’ll find yourself being ogled while shopping or stared at coldly by an unsmiling waitress who offers you the bill after fifteen minutes (before you’ve even finished eating your food). 

V is for Violin

You’ll never figure out how this became a part of your life. Regardless of whether it was through bribery or force, your parents managed to get you stringing along to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. The practice hours only rise from here. After all, how else are you supposed to become the next hot child prodigy? And what’s this about performing at Carnegie Hall in eighth grade? (Thanks a lot, Amy Chua.)

W is for Work Ethic 

If you happen to miss more than one day of school, your peers stare in confusion and a teacher can’t help but express surprise that it was “you of all people”. Classmates expect you to finish entire group projects on your own (of course with their names added at the end) because that’s your “thing”. 

X is for Xenogenesis

Here’s the Merriam-Webster definition (you’re welcome): the fancied production of an organism altogether and permanently unlike the parent. Now, whenever Dad brings up how your cushy middle-class upbringing pales in comparison to his poverty-stricken childhood, you’ll have a word to sum it up! 

Y is for Yin/Yang

The concept that governs Chinese medicine, gastronomy, and martial arts. The Yin is passive in nature while the Yang is repelling, but both are needed to support each other. Sound familiar? These are your two personalities: the obedient, shy Chinese child and the loud, flippant American rebel. Only, instead of supporting each other to help your body thrive, they clash in a never-ending battle that tears at your being. 

Z is for Zodiac 

The 12 animal signs used to adorn the paper place mats in Chinese-American restaurants. Is such placement symbolic in that it allows for white people to toss their grease and food scraps onto the traditional Chinese calendar? Or does the harm end at cultural appropriation (your white friend insisting they’re a dragon because it “just fits their energy”)?

From A-Z it’s easy to see

Just how confusing and strange it can  be,

To inhabit this country as an ABC 

When all you really want is to be…

FREE.