Difficult Situation... What Would You Do?
I chose this story as my first real blog because a couple of years ago I had commented on a friend's blog that her story reminded me of one from my past. I felt I promised it to her, because she had shared a similar story of how the Tiananmen Square protests change her family life. I wrestled to get my story out, to share with her that I had a difficult cultural experience, too. Finally, a long time later, I put my keyboard to work.
This story is fairly grim by Western standards, especially considering the underlying cultural norm it represents. My hope is that we all learn something beyond the obvious imbalance of girls being treated differently from boys. And learn something deep from it that we can use to improve our own lives and hopefully take it to another level to improve other's lives.
When I was 7 years old, my Mom told me her father was helping some
relatives move from China to our community. Life had become hard there
under Communist power at that time many decades ago, and they had to
escape. I was given a job: teach the 8 year old son the English
alphabet because he was going to start school in the fall.
making stuff with Legos, playing with my cousins' dinosaur set when I
could get my hands on them... these things I could do. But I pressed on, did what was I tasked with, and don't even remember the
actual teaching. Gary was skinny, shy, and a bit scared. I felt for
him. We didn't speak each other's languages but somehow he learned. I found out from my Mom that Gary actually had an older sister. When
Gary was a baby and his sister was just a toddler his family didn't
have much food. They realized if they fed both children, they knew
both would be too sick and not make it. So they picked one. Anyone who understands the Chinese culture, will know immediately that
they picked the boy, Gary. I couldn't imagine how they could have
watched their little girl die of hunger. They seemed so nice and
grateful to our family for the help they got. They were so grateful and appreciated the chance they got in this new
place, that the father worked for my grandfather, took on two more jobs and gradually they established themselves.
They added two more girls to their family. I saw how they loved their children. I got to visit them when each girl was born. They were so happy and proud.
Husband and wife never forgot the help my family gave to them. Amongst
other things, they cleared our ancestors graves nicely so when we
would visit the graves on our yearly ritual to acknowledge our
forebearers and express thanks for their sacrifices, the weeds would
be gone, the plots cleared and tidy.
career at our Air Force Base and established his own family. I realized when he arrived he was 8, but just a baby when the horrible
thing happened back in China... I could not fathom why it took them so
long to get to Hawaii. It was only when I heard stories from Cambodian
"boat people" that their journeys took many years, crossing oceans,
sometimes being attacked by pirates, being shuffled from country to
country, making their way across Europe, America and finally to
Hawaii, that I got a glimpse of the harrowing journey they made in
their flight to freedom and to a new home. We are all so much older now, and I would love to ask him about what
he remembers about China, about coming here and mostly about his
sister. I have no idea how I would get to that topic. I know how it affected me at the time: my people like boys so much
better than girls they are willing, if pressed, to let the girls die.
No debate. That's how things are. Bad karma if you are born a girl.
I was always sure the parents were haunted by that decision they had to make.
At the time I first heard of this, I asked myself what I would do if Iwere in their shoes. To this day I have no answer.
