My lips trip
Over the dancing, lilting syllables
Of my Mandarin mother tongue.
They tease me
As my eyes rove the outlines
Of Chinese characters on a page.
Each line and stroke crisscrossing
Like a painting I struggle to comprehend
Abstract art
Like the memories of my relatives
Blurring in my mind.
For somehow the cheerful wave
"I'll visit again soon!"
Has turned into 7 years.
I still remember my grandmother
Tears streaming, voice cracking
Standing in the doorway
"Bye bye"
The longer I stay away
The more it seems
Like a dream.
X marks the spot
On the map in my heart
Of Taiwan
The rustling of lush island green
Blaring of bustling streets
The soundtrack of my childhood summers.
I stare at my eyes
The ones I wanted to hide
Powdered and penciled to look like
Caucasian girls in my high school.
I feel the catch in my throat
From the heritage I’ve swallowed,
The things of my culture left unsaid,
For fear of appearing too different.
What does it mean to be Asian-American
When I feel the second part of the hyphen
More strongly than the first?
Yet the mother tongue
And memories from the motherland
Have a way of persisting,
Like my mother, grandmother
And all the mothers before her.
I may not understand every word
But I know Mandarin sounds like
Loud chatter and laughter
Of my relatives around the dinner table,
Or my grandfather's exclamation
When he sees a beautiful mountainside.
It looks like
Bright clouds of bougainvillea flowers
Blooming on the fence of my mother's childhood home,
Or the rusty red track of a park in Kaohsiung
Where I took my very first steps.
It feels like
The comfort of braised beef noodle soup,
My favorite childhood dish,
Or the soft leather of my grandfather's hand in mine,
Steadying me through the streets of Taipei.
My mother tongue
And memories of my motherland
Have a way of persisting
Through the stories my mother tells me -
Reminding me
Reassuring me
That it is impossible to forget
The blood coursing through your veins
Or the words whispered through the womb.
My mother tongue
And memories of my motherland
Never lost
Always found.
Biography
My name is Wendie Yeung and I currently work in management consulting in the Bay Area of California. I enjoy writing about cultural identity and have work forthcoming at The Rumpus. In my spare time, I enjoy writing, hiking, yoga, and exploring new coffeeshops!
