When I moved out of the city to pursue a liberal arts degree in the outskirts of Massachusetts, my anxious mother would call me every night and ask me if I had eaten yet. I would tell her that I did, even if I had gone to sleep that night without eating dinner. At the time, I was going through an existential crisis, as many others experienced in their college years. Yet, every night, my mom would call me and repeat the same things over and over again: 1. “Are you going to find a job with that degree?” 2. “How much did you spend on rent this month?” and, of course, 3. “Did you eat yet?”
I always answered in English: 1. “I hope so.” 2. “Let me check.” 3. “Yes.”
One day, our argument about my plans to study abroad led me to do something almost taboo for children of immigrants: In a fit of anger, I hung up on her and didn’t speak to her for days.
The truth was, there was so much I wanted to share with her at the moment, and later, I learned there were things she wanted to tell me as well. After a couple of days, we resumed talking. However, it wasn’t until I returned home for summer break that she brought up the phone incident. In Chinese, she apologized, saying she just wanted me to be happy. In English, I said I was sorry too and that I was happy.
Yet, “sorry” and “happy” always felt insufficient. Our deep feelings were masked by the default question of “Did you eat yet?” and nothing past that.
In many Chinese homes, the common phrase “Did you eat yet?” is a simple greeting expressing love and concern. Despite its brevity, such phrases often become an important means of communication between second-generation Chinese Americans and their immigrant parents.
As I navigate my place within the political landscape of the Chinese American diaspora, I recognize my personal journey as part of a larger, shared experience shaped by systemic racism.
English Language Acquisition and Mandates
After Spanish, Chinese is the most commonly…
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