Episode 2: Quychon Tu

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...

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