Identi-what?

When I tell people that I'm going to study abroad in Thailand, I get comments like, "Ohhh, that's awesome," accompanied with blank stares. Or, "So what will you be doing there?" And then the occasional, "So that's, like, by China, right?" But I never get, "Why are you going to Thailand specifically?"

Sure, one may think it's a no-brainer at first. I'm Thai American (no hyphen? Maybe another post about this later). Of course I would want to go there. Explore my motherland and all that. But what exactly do I want to know about Thailand? Why wouldn't I want to go to a place where I wouldn't face a language barrier or even a place where my obvious interests lie?

Hrm. Well. Here are my thoughts on the matter so far.

1. It all started when...

If that Childhood & Adolescence class I took freshman year taught me anything (besides the fact that birthing is a disgusting phenomenon), it was that adolescents explore their identities as a prerequisite to growing into the ~adulthood~ stage. Often, adolescents grasp onto a facet of themselves that they believe they are certain about: gender, race, sexuality, ethnicity, interests, musical prowess, talent in sports... The list goes on. Then, the adolescent questions and re-questions that facet and makes sure that it really, truly describes them. Therefore, this class forced me to reevaluate the way I went through adolescence and also cemented "placenta" as one of the words I'm most grossed out by, even today.

I... I'm not going to lie to you all. I spent the majority of my adolescence wrapped up in the world of Pokemon. So, it was easy for me to come up with a definition of "me." I like Pokemon, I seem to be defined as Asian to those around me, so thus, I created somewhat of a pan-Asian identity for myself. Then, well, I got into the whole k-pop thing and... Okay, so where am I going with this? When I was in middle school, I allowed my peers to grant me the nickname, "Asian." I didn't hate it. Without many other Asian kids at my school, that's just who I became to be: the token Asian.

2. So, who am I?

At the same time, growing up in western North Carolina has taught me that I am also American. Easy enough: I live here, I speak English, and I certainly enjoy a slice of apple pie with a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream on the side with my game of baseball and/or college football, thank you very much. However, I never considered the intricacies of the Asian part of my identity: no, I'm not Japanese. I'm not Korean. In fact, I'm barely even ethnically Thai; the majority of my family came from southern China, actually. My parents just grew up in Thailand and acculturated themselves because they had no other choice. So by blood, I am Chinese. However, I know absolutely nothing about southern China, and I have a poor knowledge of the language and culture of Thailand, much less the way the country words economically, ecologically, politically, etc., etc. But ask me how to use gochujang. Or how to prepare ddukbokki. I dare you.

Mmmm, omnomnom.

Hmm, okay, so I'm a wannabe Asian that's actually Asian but likes to take on other cultures instead of learn about her own. Fair enough. Let's dig further. I declared a minor in Asian American Studies as soon as my sophomore year started at NU. Again, this decision also seemed like a no-brainer because I felt that I identified with Asian Americans, so studying the history of them would more clearly elucidate the motives behind my behaviors as well as my identity, right?

Nah. The more I learn about the history of Asian Americans, the more I saw that Southeast Asians were, for the most part, excluded from the general course of study because of their relative newness in the US. I felt this obligation to research the history of Southeast Asians in America and then stand up and represent Southeast Asians during class discussions. Plus, when my classmates who were actually Chinese or Korean or what-have-you spoke about their own personal experiences being who they are or how their parents entered the States, I felt like I had no right to really supplement what they were saying; there is absolutely no way of me ever knowing how someone who identifies as "Chinese American" or "Korean American" really lives their life, regardless of how many anime series or k-dramas I have watched. So this shallow appropriation of cultures is simply a product of my interest and not my race or ethnicity.

Don't think about it too much. It's just a macro. Brock and SHINee's Onew just look hilariously similar.

3. Identity determined. Now what?

Conclusively, then, I am not a pan-Asian American. Though I am part of the greater Asian American community. I am Thai American. My parents grew up in Thailand, still speak Thai, still practice Thai customs, and still cook mighty delicious Thai food. I was raised to be Thai. I have my own precious family comprised of native Thais and Thai Americans at NU, and they have certainly stuck with me through thick and thin. "Thai American" is simply who I am, I've decided, and that's what I identify as, regardless of my various fandoms stretching across international borders. Am I labeling myself for the purpose of *becoming* the embodiment of everything that is Thai and American? Erm, no, far from that. There are other facets of personality/being to consider. But it's certainly high time for me to experience that non-American part of my identity and thus finish re-questioning that part of my identity. I mean, it's about time for me to transition into that stage of ~adulthood~ already.

Next post will be about what I hope to do when I get to Thailand. Stay tuned! Maybe you'll get more pictures of Pokemon! YEAH.