I’m often bothered by this notion that literature shouldn’t be political. How can you separate art from the world it’s created in, and why would you want to?
Lisa Ko 2017
*SPOILERS AHEAD*
I originally started The Leavers in December. I’m not sure why I was dragging my feet to finish it, but I’m glad that I picked it back up again. Deming, or Daniel, is a Chinese American child who is separated from his birth mother when she is deported back to China. He subsequently is adopted by an older white couple and grows up in upstate NY in predominantly white neighborhoods. This is a drastic change from his previous life in NYC and the story follows his struggle with his ethnic identity, ties to his mother, and perceptions of belonging and family.
Parts of this book really resonated with my own experiences. Ko not only talks about Deming’s story, but also includes narratives from other adoptees who were brought to the US (though they were adopted as toddlers). These parts include bringing the adoptees to Lunar New Year events, adoptee camps, the “red string of fate” story, and the struggles of being raised in a multi-racial family. I know that being raised in a white household from a young age is drastically different from being adopted as an older child, but there is overlap in terms of constantly questioning your identity and feeling like you belong.
I would highly recommend this book. It tackles issues including ICE, language barriers, non-nuclear families, and the emotional turmoil that may come with being adopted.
That being said, I think that the above post acknowledges something that some Asian Americans gloss over. Feeling “culturally homeless” is much different than living in Asian countries dealing with the effects of imperialism. Stories written by those of the diaspora and by those who live in Asia are both important when it comes to understanding justice and what it means to be part of a global society, but it’s important to deconstruct how these are presented to the public. It’s not just a singular “Asian Excellence” moment, but the elevation of stories and issues that are often overlooked in history books, laws, and public resources.
I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting since the Shanghai study abroad trip was cancelled and this book spurred more complicated questions. Why do I feel the need to validate my “Asian-ness” or Chinese-ness” by going to my birth country? How does my US privilege influence my sense of identity and yearning for a place to call home? What does it mean for someone from the Chinese diaspora living in the Global North to experience Shanghai as a student? Will I ever move back to China or Asia in general? If I did do this would it be selfish? Do I want to put emotional labor into trying to find my birth parents? Some of these questions I know will follow me throughout my life and I will probably never find definitive answers.
邵的旅程 