There’s an acronym I’ve grown up with: ABC. It stands for American Born Chinese. I don’t think it’s a derogatory term, but growing up with limited contact with the small Chinese community in Michigan, it has always seemed like a title of detachment. The detachment was partially self-imposed. As a child, you want nothing to do with anything that will make you seem different from everyone else. The desire for childhood normalcy was at odds with the only external cultural exposure I had, Chinese school on Saturday mornings. Concentrating in class was difficult considering the desired alternative was sleeping in and watching cartoons.
It’s always easier to see when you’re older, how much you miss out on through the follies of youth. Thankfully, my parents’ persistence forced a small amount of Chinese language comprehension into my head. Soon, I’ll be lucky enough to put it to the test. On October 30th, I’ll be flying out to Taiwan with my Dad for 21 days. This blog will be the catalogue of build up, and my experiences and travels.
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