I'm Asian, Y'all

“You’re Filipino!” my patient remarked as soon as I walked in the room.

“No, actually I’m not. I do kind of look like it though, don’t I?” I acknowledged with a smile.

“You’re not?” The patient paused only for a moment before looking me in the eye and stating with certainty, “Then you’re Mexican!”

I could only stifle laughter at that point.

I could tell a myriad of stories about people and patients commenting on my race. What my professors didn’t tell me was that somehow, when I received my nursing license, all my patients gained a license, too: license to ask whatever they wanted in the most blunt form possible.

One time a couple asked if I was Mexican or Asian. I replied that I was Asian, and their eyes grew wide. “Ohhhh,” one of them exclaimed. The other said, “I thought so! It’s just…the voice threw me off. The accent confused me. Because to my ears…at least from what I was hearing…" She stumbled through her sentence, "There was no accent!”

Other times various Caucasian patients have tried to speak foreign languages to me, like Japanese and Tagalog, even after I told them I was Chinese. And then there’s the patient who, when I told him my race, said, “I was wondering! I knew you weren’t Texan.” He quickly realized his faux pas and recovered with, “I mean, you are Texan…. We’re all Texan!”

Just for the record: I’m Chinese. I was born in the States. I don’t have an accent because English is my first language. I don’t speak Chinese at all, aside from being able to order dim sum. I do speak some Spanish and a bit of Khmer (Cambodian).

I bring up these stories not simply because they're humorous but also because they matter to me. I am not offended by these comments; in fact, most of the time I find them hilarious. Yet it seems people become downright awkward when asking about race. Sometimes they are rude and insensitive, but mostly they are simply unsure of how to be tactful while acknowledging a difference in skin color.

Thus this post: an outlet for anecdotes as well as some practical suggestions to help navigate what can be an awkward exchange when you need to resolve the secret debate in your family of whether that girl is Korean or Chinese.

Suggestion #1: Please don’t ask, “So…what are you?”

The answer to that is “a human being, just like you.” I don’t know what else to say about this one…

Suggestion #2: Please don’t ask, “Where are you from?”

I used to get stressed when people asked this. I would analyze the situation, them, their cultural background, our conversation and relationship up until that point - all in a couple seconds - before deciding whether to answer, “Houston” or “My family is from China.”

Because if I chose the wrong reply, one of us looked like an idiot. Either I did because they actually wanted to know my hometown, or they did because then they had to find another way to ask my race. Or they followed up with the cringe-worthy, “No, where are you from?”

Now I always answer, “Houston.” I don’t feel like an idiot with that answer because the truth is, that’s where I’m from, and that’s what they asked.

Suggestion #3: Think twice before asking, “What kind of Asian are you?”

What kind of White are you? Not sure different countries can be considered “kinds” of Asia (like “kinds” of candy or clothes or something?). To be fair, depending on context and tone, this can be a tactful way of asking more about someone’s background.

Suggestion #4: Try using more direct words instead of vague questions that leave me wondering what you really want to know. 

I prefer when people ask me questions with the words “race,” “ethnicity,” “cultural heritage,” or any of those combined with “background” (ie, racial/ethnic background).

For example, a couple people with whom I work have asked about my race in straight-forward and non-awkward ways. In fact, the day after I drafted this, I heard someone at work come up behind me and say my name.

“Yes?” I replied.

“What nationality are you?”

“Chinese,” I replied. Thus the mystery was solved and the break-room debate resolved, all in a matter of seconds. No awkwardness involved.

Suggestion #5: Recognize any faux pas, and acknowledge them in conversation.

The patient who said, “I knew you weren’t Texan,” wasn’t trying to be rude. In fact, he was one of the most culturally sensitive patients for whom I’ve cared. Perhaps what showed his sensitivity most was recognizing his mistake and attempting to fix it.
 

Of course, these five suggestions are my preferences, and I don't have a lower view of anyone who asks me, "What are you?" However, hopefully this post offers some help in avoiding awkward situations and unintentional microaggression.

I receive questions about my race so frequently that I used to say if no one commented on my race or age at work, it’d be a landmark day. Recently that landmark day came - but instead of those classic questions, someone asked me something else: "How much do you weigh?"

So, bottom line, even if you don't remember a single suggestion from this Chinese-American, Spanish-speaking Texan: 

Be direct, and be honest, but try not to ask me about my weight!

The Big Hoo-rah about George W. Bush and Shawn Shannon

Today former U.S. president George W. Bush came to UMHB to give a lecture. College students and people in Belton have been talking about this for weeks, and I think for about 48 hours every other post on my Facebook feed will have a #GeorgeW or some mention of this famous Texan man. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. But if Facebook tracked what’s “trending in Belton,” this definitely would make the cut.

All this to say, there has been a great big hoo-rah about it. (Not to be confused with hurrah. My sister once told me hoo-rah wasn’t a word, but it’s fun to say and I still hold that it means something like “a big deal”.)

Anyway, there was a big hoo-rah, and though I am impressed that such a big name came to such a small school in such a small town, I share the sentiment of one of my roommates that “He’s just a man.” 

This morning as I sipped my coffee and ran rather mundane errands, I happened to drive past UMHB right at the time Bush was supposed to start speaking. I had this thought: 

“Isn’t it interesting that when Shawn Shannon (UMHB’s Baptist Student Ministry director) speaks at an event, the whole community doesn’t flock to hear her?” 

Though she makes more of an impact on UMHB's campus than any one-time speaker, students don’t sacrifice prime nap time to hear Shawn’s wisdom. I use Shawn as an example because of the substantial mark she’s made in my own life (through both her teaching and her lifestyle), but there are countless others in the community who spend their time quietly challenging, encouraging, and investing in us - day by day, week by week, year by year. 

Yet they do so without the fame. Without the recognition. Without the hoo-rah.

These people, the ones who most impact our lives, tend to be the very people we are least excited to hear from, perhaps because they are so close and so constantly present that we take them for granted.

I recently listened to a talk (via YouTube, of course) by researcher Brené Brown about how we value the approval of the “stranger at the mall” and the people who look down on us much more than we value the acceptance of those who are close to us and freely give their love.(1) She quotes Groucho Marx, who once said, “I sent the club a wire stating, ‘Please accept my resignation. I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.’”(2)

In whatever social arena we find ourselves - work, school, church - we crave the favor of those who don’t accept us, and we often place little value in the opinion and acceptance of those who daily traverse the ups and downs of life with us.

This morning I zipped right past UMHB (actually I more puttered since the speed limit is 30), and I did not regret that I was sitting in my car, sipping coffee, running mundane errands. For though there is excitement over meeting someone famous, whether Bush or Obama or anyone else whose name makes the headlines, in the end, it’s just that: meeting them. Not doing life together, celebrating the end of another work week, or grieving a loss.

The Lord’s been teaching me quite a bit about valuing His constant, quiet, faithful companionship, and He's been teaching me about valuing the love of those around me, too - those who support me in their unassuming yet laudable ways. I suppose this is why if Shawn Shannon had been the one speaking at today’s event, I probably would have made more of an effort to attend.

Even though I didn’t hear his lecture, maybe I did get something from #GeorgeW’s speech today, after all: a reminder to take a moment and appreciate those who love us, support us, and do life with us day by day. So here’s to all of you who quietly make a difference by investing in me and in others as a lifestyle: this may only be a simple blog post, but it’s my way of letting you know there's a big hoo-rah about you in my life.

(1) Brené Brown: Why Your Critics Aren't The Ones Who Count (www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-JXOnFOXQk)
(2) www.marx-brothers.org/info/quotes.htm

Leaving a Legacy...Or Not.

Several months ago during an interview for a campus event planning committee, I was asked the question, “What kind of legacy do you want to leave at UMHB?” Conveniently, I had pondered that very thing earlier in the day and had a ready answer.

At the time, I wanted my legacy to be that students would remember me as kind, servant-hearted, and loving the Lord and others. I hoped part of my legacy would include other students continuing on a ministry in which I was involved. But if I was being honest, mostly I just hoped that I would leave a legacy.

I didn’t want to be forgotten. Or what I'd done to go to waste. Isn’t that what legacies are about? The unique something you’ll leave behind? Or what you’ll be remembered for?

A few weeks ago, as I walked through the apartments and past the Student Union Building on the way to class, with students milling about all around me, a thought hit me.

I didn’t know a single one of the dozens of students I’d passed.

And I was okay with that. 

There was a time when I couldn't cross campus without stopping every few yards to greet someone, but waves of freshmen had arrived much faster than my slowing pace of meeting people. It used to be easy to think I would leave a legacy when so many people knew me. Yet in that moment walking to class I became starkly aware that I knew a much smaller fraction of the student population than before, which meant the chances of leaving a lasting legacy were much slimmer. Surprisingly, this didn't bother me, and I realized it was because that "legacy" and being remembered weren't so important to me anymore.

Over the past few weeks I’ve come to terms with the reality that I will walk across the stage in a few days, and in a year or two only a handful of students will recognize my name. In five years no students will. In a dozen years, a single staff member may be the only one on campus who remembers who I am and what I stood for during college. 

But that's okay. Maybe going to college and participating in organizations and planning activities isn’t about how I will impact things. Maybe it isn’t about being remembered. Maybe it isn’t about me leaving a legacy at all.

I am an individual, and as an individual student I will be forgotten. Yet as an individual student, I have enjoyed and contributed to ministries and activities and traditions – things that have been for decades (centuries, even!) and that will probably continue for decades. I have been a drop in the stream that keeps the water wheel turning. I have loved my time with those who have been on the water wheel at the same time as I have, and we have made great impact and left powerful personal legacies in each other’s lives. I have been discipled by students who have been discipled by students who have been discipled by students - and so it goes back for decades. And I have discipled students. In my own small yet significant way, I have added my legacy to one that is much grander than my own.

It is unrealistic to think I will be remembered by name at an ever-changing institution like Mary Hardin-Baylor, where the student body grows and shifts by the semester. But that’s okay. I am content, for I have taken part in a legacy that is much bigger.

A culture of kindness. An atmosphere that cultivates community. Organizations that develop leaders with integrity. Staff who both teach and mentor. Ministries that glorify Christ as King. This is the legacy of UMHB.

I am content, and I have no regrets. For I have had the privilege of participating all-out in this: this legacy that lives at UMHB.

Special thanks to the Cru for teaching me so much over the past few years – and for giving me an example on a small scale of what it’s like to find contentment in something (whether that be college or Kingdom) bigger than me.

On Sabbaths and Nursing School

Throughout the past few semesters, underclassman nursing majors have asked me for tips on nursing school. The truth is, most of the time I have had no idea what to tell them. I've always felt I was still learning how to live life as a student just like anyone else. The past few weeks, however, I realized I’ve nearly reached the end. Looking back, nursing school isn't something I simply survived. It’s been an adventure – with mountaintop days and days I wanted to give up the climb. 

It’s been a journey. Just like the rest of life.

As these five demanding semesters come to a close, maybe I do have wisdom to share with those beginning nursing school. Like...use Kaplan. Keep friends who aren’t nursing majors. Don’t quit just because it’s hard. Don't take school too seriously. Don't take friendships too lightly. But perhaps the most helpful thing I could say is this:

Take a Sabbath.

When I was a freshman, I began praying about what observing the Sabbath looked like as a college student. (After all, it is one of the Ten Commandments. I think that means it’s at least semi-important to God.) I soon started taking a Sabbath from studying every weekend, from sundown Saturday to sundown Sunday - which allowed for a full day of rest as well as time to study the night before a weekly Monday quiz! I found taking this break every week was beyond refreshing.

Thankfully, it became a habit.

I say “thankfully” because the next semester marked the beginning of nursing school. Many Saturday evenings I struggled to put away notes for a test I was stressed about (we nursing majors excel at stressing). Yet because it was a habit already, it was easier to close out the powerpoints, shut my binder of notes and cap the highlighter. God never failed to honor this obedience of trusting Him and His command to keep the Sabbath. 

So, I amend my advice: Take a Sabbath. And make it a habit.

The Sabbath has become precious time to me. It has demanded that I pause life and rest. Spiritually. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. This rest is different from a study break because it is an entire day. Often it takes at least a couple hours to bring the momentum of my mind's rapid pace of thoughts to a halt, which barely happens (or doesn't at all) during a study break. Furthermore, we as a culture - especially college students, and of those especially nursing students - don't like to rest. We are all about productivity and efficiency. Keeping the Sabbath has given time to rest and, in a sense, has taught me how to rest. 

And this process of learning how to stop working, worrying, and striving - this has brought incredible freedom.

Rest has ranged from afternoon naps to soccer games with friends. It has spanned semesters when I've been overly worried about grades and semesters when I've been under-worried about them and overwhelmed with social engagements.  

Regardless of the type of rest it has been, every week the Sabbath has been a day that gives, while the remainder of the week has steadily taken.

During the past three years, I have realized this: taking Sabbaths is healthy. Although it may be inconvenient or seem unnecessary at times, God intended for us to rest. Not only does it help us refocus on the Lord, but it also provides an opportunity for us to step back from life, regroup, and operate more efficiently the rest of the week. On a practical level, it encourages balance and time management and discourages Sunday afternoon cramming.

Yet the most valuable part of Sabbaths, I have found, is the sweetness of knowing the Lord more through these times of rest.

To all my fellow nursing students, don't let nursing school daunt you. Taking Sabbaths is possible. It is freeing. It is worth it. It is an opportunity to come closer to the Lord.

I have tasted, and I have seen. The sweetness of knowing the Lord more through Sabbath-keeping is far sweeter than achieving A’s in the hardest courses. It is sweeter than making a dozen new friends. It is sweeter than the RN, BSN that prayerfully will follow my name in a few short weeks.

In this journey of nursing school, it’s been true. Just like in the rest of life. 

The sweetness of knowing the Lord more is sweeter.