So, you know I am Asian. The people who know me better know that I am Vietnamese. The people who know me even better know that I am actually seven-eighths Vietnamese, one-eighth Chinese (paternal great grandfather). I come from your run-of-the-mill, traditional Vietnamese family. What does this mean? Well, for starters, this means that is not unusual in my culture for my parents to be very involved in my life. This is doubly so because I am the only son. Sons in Asian families are “precious pots of gold.” A good mom will spoil her golden son to death because that is what good moms do. Now, my definition of spoiled is actually rather different from your definition of spoiled. You may think of being spoiled as petulant, whiny, and selfish. Well an Asian golden son is all of those things, but has some additional qualities you won’t find in American spoiled children. A good Asian mother spoils her son because she wants to make sure her son takes
the best possible path for his life the path that will ensure the family’s greatest financial security. A good Asian mother spoils her daughter to make sure she is most attractive to a golden son.
I’m being too philosophical here. I’ll spell it out in a simpler manner. Sons are good. Daughters are “okay”. Sons carry the family name. Daughters carry the babies. Sons work. Daughters stay at home. Sons study the sciences hard. Daughters study the arts hard. Now really gifted sons study everything if he is to be a true leader. A really gifted daughter only hopes to be so lucky as to marry a golden son.
Traditional Asians tend to be slightly misogynistic.
Asians also have a lot in common with the Romans of old. That is, the mother plays a very important role in the life of the family. It has to do with filial piety, or the undying devotion to family. I remember being told about this one story about a kid being spanked. Spanking is the most common form of punishment to teach your child right from wrong. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Now this kid’s mom was vicious. She spanked him so hard that he always cried when she spanked him. But that one day his mom got really sick. She tried to spank him, but it didn’t hurt. When she was catching her breath, he cried. His mother asked him why he was crying. The filial son replied, “Because it didn’t hurt anymore. It hurts even more when it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
While the American culture vastly differs from the Asian culture, they both highly value the same thing: Money. American culture values doctors and lawyers the most. Asian culture values doctors, pharmacists, and engineers. The difference is that Asians value working hard for the money more than Americans do. So doctors are seen as altruistic, life-aiding angels while lawyers are seen as dastardly, deceptive demons.
In the Vietnamese culture, education is highly valued. I had no doubts that I would be going to college since the day I was born. I assembled one thousand piece jigsaw puzzles of world maps when I was three years old. I learned my multiplication tables as soon as I learned how to talk. Childhood? I don’t know…it’s hard to separate my childhood from doing whatever my parents felt would help me prepare to make money.
All the church elders always commented how mature I was relative to their children. They always pointed me out as the shining paragon of how to act courteous to everyone. But they also wondered why I didn’t smile very often, if at all.
One day, when I was really young, I remember watching a TV serial version of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a very famous Chinese literary novel depicting the unification of the Three Kingdoms in China. Sadly, it’s more of a political story than a romance per se. It had memorable characters whose names are references in everyday culture. Talk about Cao Cao and you know you are talking about a guy who is conniving and Machiavellian. Talk about Liu Bei and you know you are talking about an honest but naïve man. I asked who was the smartest guy of them all. My parents told me that they respected Zhuge Liang, whose name is synonymous with “wisdom”.
Why exactly Zhuge Liang, the man with the amazing fan in Dynasty Warriors 4? Wasn’t he more of an advisor in the story? Ah, yes, but he knew how to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He let people think they were doing what they wanted to do, while they were actually doing what he predicted they would do. He was sort of a prototype for the prescient Bruce Wayne from Batman: The Animated Series. Anyways, the main point was that nobody knew what he was thinking. My parents pointed out that if I wanted to be successful, nobody could know what I was thinking.
There are two ways to hide your thoughts. The first involves simply wearing a stiff upper lip and refusing to react to things. Quiet people are often the hardest people to read because they do not say enough to reveal anything about their personalities. This is why some of the best poker players in the world say nary a word on TV. Then opposite tactic involves talking up a storm to hide what you are truly thinking. Say whatever the opposite of what you opponent think to say. In fact, just say whatever your opponent think you will not say.
Zhuge Liang was a master at switching flawlessly between the two.
I patterned my reaction pattern after Zhuge Liang, just as he tailored his personality to suit whoever he was talking to. This is what makes me a deceptive person. I switch my personality to be contrary to whoever I am talking to. In the BSU I become a near heretic with regards to the dogma. Outside the BSU I defend the doctrine to death. In the midst of College Republicans I am willing to argue the liberal side. I’m not afraid to argue about bigoted conservative politics with Young Democrats. Sometimes I find me arguing against myself for the sake of arguing.
Most entertaining arguments ever.
And I take crap from nobody outside out of my family because I’ve been pretty much ripped to shreds in my own house. When your own family tears into you at home, the world becomes a less scarier place. No, really, people think I am “patient” because they’ve never seen me blow up. I hardly ever raise my voice in anger to another person. That’s because I blow up all the time. In front of my family. We don’t have family dinners, we don’t have family conversations, we have family nuclear war. Allow me to provide you a script. You also have to imagine my mom speaking in Vietnamese (so I’ll have to translate liberally), but me responding in English.
( Script of your typical Asian family conversation )Me: Just ask. We’re a brutally straightforward family. We can take it.
Mom: Yes…oh hey Wheel of Fortune is on.
Me: Sweet…
(five minutes later)
(The board reads _HOROGRAPHD FIR__ORKS SHO_.)
Contestant #2: I’d like to solve. Choreographed Fireworks shot!
Me and Mom: STUPID! (with the inflection only Asians can put on)
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