The problem with being an Asian daughter.
So I get that inter-generational gaps can become a bit of an issue in terms of communication within a family but it seems that that issue is blown out of proportion within an immigrant family. Then, it’s actually more disastrous within an Asian immigrant family.
Wait.. AND you’re the daughter?
Forget it. You’re screwed for life.
Now you might think I’m being a little dramatic but if you are a female and you have an Asian mother, you know what I’m talking about. In an Asian family, the dynamics of the tumultuous mother-daughter relationship become so tightly wound and compressed that if you try to disturb it, it will without a doubt, combust, if you’re lucky, or if the black crows (or pigeons, to be indiscriminate) frown upon you, it will implode and create a black hole that seeks to destroy everything up, down and all around.
What was I saying about being dramatic?
The title of this post would probably better suit the title of this blog because everything I do or write about will most likely stem from this “influence,” to put it lightly, and it’s just something I am never going to be able to escape. Not that I really do (that’s a lie), don’t get me wrong. I love my mother and I appreciate everything she has done for me, everything she has sacrificed that I’m not even aware of. Part of everything I’ve done and will do will always be attributable to my mother and the gratitude I feel.
But sometimes.. ARGHHH sometimes I just want to reach the closest thing to me and throw it on the floor stomp smash sledgehammer drag it on a rope behind a horse carriage to the furthest bridge set it on fire chuck it over midair shoot it trigger happy dual pistols laugh maniacally bazooka into smithereens.
So I guess this will be an adequate introduction to myself, my life, and my insanity.