Self-titled
already? Love yourself much? Yes, that’s my full name and whilst my intention
is not to be totally self-absorbed and up my own arse, I’ll proceed to explain
why I feel my name is so symbolic to my identity (duh! Stay with me please), my
family’s journey to the UK from Vietnam and the positivity I feel towards my
heritage today; much of things I had hoped to cover in this second but first
real episode to PPPI.
“I Hate It!”
Quychon Tu is the
name I was given. The name I was expected to present myself to the world with.
“Really, that name? I hate it!” From the moment I could read and understand
what a name was and its purpose, I hated mine. So ugly to look at when written,
so unbearable to hear regardless of the pronunciation. To this day I’m not
totally sure that my preference is in even the correct pronunciation, that is
if one even exists.
Registers at school
with new or supply teachers provoked anxiety. Anxiety at having to correct and
explain my name once called. Anxiety at the eventual sniggers from the other
children. Anxiety at the “why always me” feeling I had at the prospect of
having to say that little bit more than just the one-word answer required of
everybody else. Anxiety that often led to me not answering at all, stone dead
silence, for one of my classmates to confirm that the strange noise that came
out of the teacher’s mouth was in fact my name and that I was very much present
though perhaps not totally correct. Why couldn’t I have a normal name? Why did
I have to be Chinese? I hated my name. I hated looking Chinese. I hated being
Chinese. There was genuine resentment as young as 4 years old. Is it even
normal to be able to recall so vividly anxiety as a four-year-old?
By the time I
started Secondary school, I had totally wised up though. A right high IQ
mathmagician problem solver I was. I filled out my own application/registration
forms and made it distinctly clear what my name was. I became just “Chon Tu”.
Two words. Two syllables. Elementary level phonetics. It would take a
first-rate dick of a problem seeking teacher to get this wrong. Problem solved.
Not Just a Name
It wasn’t until
much later I was able to dissect and understand my name. The name given to me
was actually 徐贵俊. Very Chinese right? Quychon Tu, not
so much as it’s in fact a Vietnamese phonetic
translation of my name.
The Vietnamese
translation owes to the fact that my family though ethnically Chinese, in the
late 1970s/early 80s were forced to flee the only home they had ever known for
several generations in North Vietnam. By way of China and Hong Kong they had
found their way to the UK as refugees (there is so much more to this journey,
enough for its own biopic which I will attempt to cover in another episode).
‘Tu’ (徐) is my family name (in China this would be ‘Xú’, in Hong Kong ‘Tsui’).
‘Quy’ (贵) is reference to my generation’s name so is shared by not just my siblings but all cousins
across the same level for our entire family tree. It’s totally ‘old hat’ and as naming conventions go it’s as
bound to tradition as you can get, which is very much representative of my
family dynamics generally.
‘Chon’ (俊) is the only part of my name that is unique to me and fittingly
translates to ‘handsome’.
Rinse & Repeat
My own experiences
and identity conflicts led me to question others as an adult, namely my much
younger cousins of school age. My curiosity came from two places of equal
measure. First was the notion of ‘was it just me?’ and secondly out of genuine
concern. As much as I didn’t wish my experiences unto others, I didn’t want to
feel as though I was alone in my how I felt. 10, 15 almost 20 years on from my
own experiences are the cycles exactly the same for them? Surely not…
Through what must’ve
been awkward discussions at least on their part I soon uncovered the same
resentment, not specifically to their names as such but certainly to being
Chinese. Are all UK based Chinese kids growing up with the same resentment
towards their culture? Towards their parents and grandparents? The desire to
fit in and be like everyone else, what power does this hold and what damage
could it do? Then there’s the repression of it all because I know from personal
experience there’s no real outlet for it. My own siblings look as Chinese as I
do sharing two thirds of the same name yet between us never discussed a word of
how we felt for 30 plus years. Aside from sound boarding half-hearted
motivational jibber-jabber to my younger cousins about how they should feel proud
I had no fix for this. It was a heart-breaking realisation.
Through the Rain
For my own children
I’m driven to break the cycle. My childhood may have been character building,
but my own children need not experience the same cultural anxieties. Then
there's providing a home environment that embraces our Chinese culture but not
to the exclusion of all else where they miss out on what’s deemed ‘normal’. It
wasn’t by design on my parents' part but ultimately that’s what happened. They
raised us the only way they knew and it just so happened to not include
celebrating Christmas, making Easter hats, McDonalds birthday parties and all
of the other fun things ‘normal’ children experience.
Fast forward to
current day and near enough all my cousins have already or are emerging into
adulthood. I can’t speak for them but my hope is that like me, they’re all
secure and confident in their identities, are able to express themselves freely
and embrace our culture.
For me certainly no
lingering anxiety remains. I love and fully celebrate my heritage and even feel
compelled to act as an ambassador of sorts for Chinese culture in daily life,
or my brand of it at least.
Soundtrack to this Episode
How Will I Know –
Whitney Houston
Angel of Mine –
Eternal
Summer of 69 –
Bryan Adams
Pop Ya Collar –
Usher
Behind These Hazel
Eyes – Kelly Clarkson
Hey, Soul Sister –
Train
Through the Rain -
Mariah Carey
Dancing in the
Moonlight – Toploader
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Any thoughts or
feelings on the above? Apologies if you came seeking actual PPI advice...
Let me know what
you think in the comments below.
