It was that time of the year when, in my hometown across the globe, the wind had

run out of its bitterness, the trees had woken up from their long drab sleep,

and rows and rows of winter wheat had bursted out of the thawing land. For the

people, it was a time to ponder on life's inevitables and to visit ancestors'

resting places. I, however, hadn't stepped in my family graveyard for three years.

An older cousin went on Sunday and sent pictures through WeChat. He then urged me

not to forget that I am Chinese, and more specifically that I am from our proud

hometown. "Let your kid come back and worship his ancestors. Even if he becomes

an American president, let him remember he has roots here." The town did boast a

long history and an unusual number of legendary figures and so did the Chinese

nation. In the age of the global village, however, it felt out of touch at least

to cling so tightly to one's birthplace. I might be biased for my experience but

to a man well-educated as he was (an engineering PhD), I didn't know what to say. 

The brief chat with cousin Hu felt one-way. News from my side including a

two-day fast for the QingMing festival and the recent anti-Asian violence did

not elicit any response. It was as if he had just descended Mount Sinai with

the Commandments. "Thou shalt not forget thou art Chinese" sounded more like a

threat that, like it or not, I would be damned if I dared to abandon this idea

no matter how far away I ran.

I did receive the same admonition 20 years ago. A mid-aged Asian-Canadian guest

dropped by our Bible study one evening and after kindly complimenting my English,

enjoined "but don't ever forget you are Chinese." My English at the time, though

"excellent" as he generously put it, failed to allow me to express myself. After

an awkward "Aye, Aye, Captain," what I really thought was: "I had the Chinese

face, blood, and genes in this very body. How could I forget even if I wanted to?"

Today, I suspect that the gentleman meant to warn me of the deep-rooted

discrimination in this land. Only that he did not feel comfortable to say that in

front of many well-meaning white folks that night. 

So things seemed to have come a full circle. The answer to that imperative call

is a resounding NEVER no matter who issues the command. But to the elders I would

add "I cannot help it." and to my fellow Asian Americans "Let's fight the demon for

ourselves and for our children."