To Be Continued

Karen Zheung

AP L&C, Period 7

June 17, 2013

To Be Determined

        Who am I? And why am I here? Those two questions that plagued philosophers and great thinkers for centuries seem to be the bane of our existence. But upon the discovery of answer to those questions will our existence suddenly become more meaningful? Will the fighting finally cease as we drop our weapons in a race to embrace each other? Most likely not. Middle Eastern men will continue to be discriminated by their beards1, minorities will continue to work for a barely sustainable salary2, and the LGBT society will continue to fight for marriage rights3. Perhaps the answers that we are searching for won’t save the world. Then why do people still try?

From the moment our small bloody infant bodies slide out of our mother’s womb we begin a new story, marking another point in the timeline of humanity. November 7, 1996 is the day where I along with hundreds other was born into this world. And though I have lived for almost 17 years I do not have any remarkable experiences to share or meaningful advice to give. I cannot tell you a story as deep and emotional as Toni Morrison.  Her fictional yet very real character, Pecola4 conveys a sad reality-- that we are all bound to the standards of white beauty-- better than I ever will. Blue eyes, white skin, super thin: that is the criteria for one to be considered pretty. While it may not be so evident in our Fairfield County with white teenage girls getting spray tans, it becomes flagrant when I walk into the Chinatown stores and see the double eyelid glue for sale, the color-changing circle lens on display, and the expensive skin whitening products carefully stacked in pretty little boxes labeled with the faces of Asian models that have all undergone cosmetic surgery to make their noses longer and eyes bigger. And though I want to say that I am unaffected by this I know that I have fallen prey this belief at one point in my life.

I sit next to my dad in the car with the windows rolled down, enjoying the breeze that runs through my hair as I admire the beauty of the small white town marked by success called Darien. But soon my hair is knotted by the wind and I am reminded that I do not live in big house, I do not have parents with lucrative jobs, and I do not have the latest iphone or fashionable clothes. Although these superficial things don’t usually matter to me they do at that moment as I am reminded that I do not have white skin. But the damage that this does to me is very minimal compared the women that were “rudely and brutally exposed to the shocking gaze of American slave-buyers”5 (Douglass 11) and the Japanese that were living within barbed wires6. We are all different people that share the same fundamental core. Between my yellow skin, your white skin, his black skin, and her red skin we all carbon based life forms containing the same organic molecules7. “For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you” (Whitman 32). When broken down, the basic components of the human body are “water 35 L, carbon 20 kg, ammonia 4 L, lime 1.5 kg, phosphorous 800g, salt 250g, saltpeter 100g, sulfur 80g, fluorine 7.5g, iron 5g, silicon 3g, and trace amounts of 15 other elements."8 Despite our similar chemical makeup we treat each other differently based on the outside rather than the inside.

Though I am part of the minority, I’m not at the same time. Does someone like me have the right to tell others about my “struggles” as a second generation Chinese immigrant, when I can’t even speak my native dialect anymore? I wasn’t able to console my mother when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I couldn’t find the right words to express my thoughts when she started wearing a hat at home to hide her “ugly bald head”.  I cannot blame this lack of communication on anyone but myself. I have never been openly discriminated against, forced to “speak American”9, or teased for my slanted eyes and yellow skin to the point where I long to be someone else. “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out”10 (Anzaldua 36). My tongue was not cut by the white man or anyone else. I had cut it off myself. In order to distance myself from the things that made me more aware of who I was and wasn’t I plunged my being into a digital world where watching cartoons and reading comics was all that matter. But now I am coming out of that world as my story through this manifesto.

Regardless of what that story is, the mode in which they are being recorded is undoubtedly changing. What started out as cryptic paintings inside a prehistoric cave has slowly evolved into grandiose ideas being printed on books for mass production and dissemination to the people mimicking the growth of a human, from the nonsensical ramblings of a child to the heated and insightful debates held between adults. While I sit here typing my manifesto to be posted and shared on the cyber world, our forefathers dipped their quill pen in the ink as they carefully formulated the documents we now hold as the foundation of the philosophies that define America. Perhaps my actions are being reflected this very moment by a being centuries ahead on a machine grander than the almighty computer and motherboard. However texts aren’t the only forms of storytelling. In this digitalized era, movies and animations are quickly rising in popularity. Fossilized poetry11 won’t be the only remnants of human thought. Our generation will leave behind a mass of videos varying from the downfall of Flint, Michigan12 to the sweet Disney movies of Beauty and the Beast. The future will never have any confusion as to how extinct animals once looked like, unlike the scientists of today, who spend countless hours pondering the true color of a dinosaur’s hide. But whether or not this new mode of writing is better cannot fully be determined. A better question to ask would be: will our testimonies be able to stand the weight of time? Considering that hundreds of artifacts have been scavenged from various historical sites it’s probable that our stories will last as well. However with the majority of this era’s information being stored on the database of the internet there runs a risk of it being forever lost due to some unprecedented power crash or universal bad wifi. The intangible nature of digital information makes our generation’s legacy more easily lost than any before us. Will my effort and hours of pain all go to waste if I cannot guarantee that this will still exist in 2100? Or even 3013?

Do the great writers and thinkers before us turn in their graves? For men have become the tools of their tool13. Will the men and women above us shake their heads at our overdependence on technology? The day when humans are plugged into a matrix may not be too far off at this point14. It seems as if our generation will leave behind nothing but the obesity of fast food, the danger of nuclear warfare, and a polluted environment. As your pupil in the art of rhetoric and social change I could take this task on, but what good will come of it when I lack both the motivation and aggressiveness that Frederick Douglass15 displayed in “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July”, before the President? How will I ever be able to answer to Emerson’s call for an American Poet?16 How can I possibly fill the job description that Whitman’s Song of Myself had so wonderfully and erotically done?17 I can’t love the grass as passionately as he, nor am I ambitious enough to try.  Churchill will be remembered for his patriotic speeches18, Goebbels for his frightening ability to rally a nation19, and Hirohito as the Emperor that gracefully saved Japan20 while I will be……famous for my anime obsession?  Is this really the legacy that Karen Zheung will leave behind for generations—if it’s even remembered for that long?

I have already accepted the fact the fact that I probably won’t amount to much. After all, my purpose here is not to become a household name. I do not desire to have my existence etched into a high school history textbook as a politician, a criminal, or one that has been wronged by the American system. At this point the easiest solution may be to just follow Thoreau in a life of solitude in the woods21. So do I give up now? Does my journey for purpose and self-worth end here-- in my junior year of high school? Even so, I choose not to lead a quiet of quiet desperation22.  My writing may never elicit the same reaction23 that June Jordan did, or predict an accurate economic future24 as Alan Blinder’s, but then again I am not so noble. I do not wish to lead a rebellion or even start one. Rather being a leader, an instigator, or a follower, I will be my own person.  But of course none of that can be said or written with a hundred percent certainty. Remember, しわが一つずつ増えていく25。Eventually I be laid under the “uncut hair of graves” (37)26. But before that happens I will live a modest life. I will try my best so when I become part of nature I will not have any lingering regrets because even after my journey comes to an end. Honestly, I cannot tell you my exact position with the world and universe. I cannot tell you that I will go out into the world and create some big social change. Therefore I’m not going to promise any of that to myself because it’s pointless.

I’m a junior soon to be senior and I realized that I will probably never find out why I’m really here or how much I’m really worth. Even if I found that answer, I wouldn’t even know what to do with it. My future have yet to be determined so I won’t spend this moment mulling over it. So rather than writing down whatever sounds good on paper I’ll tell you the truth and that is I’m going to die; we all are. Which is why I will strive my hardest to live, take everything in right here and now. So that when it’s my turn to function as one of the many blades beneath your feet I will be able to become the foundation that the world is built on.

End Notes

1: . Middle Eastern men will continue to be discriminated by their beards- Reluctant Fundalmentalist

2: minorities will continue to work for a barely sustainable salary- Fast Food Nation

3: LGBT society will continue to fight for marriage rights- Same-sex marriage bill falls short in Illinois CBS News

4: Pecola- The Bluest Eye  Toni Morrison

5: “rudely and brutally exposed to the shocking gaze of American slave-buyers”- “To What The Slave is The Fourth of July?”  Frederick Douglass

6: Japanese that were living within barbed wires - Adventures in Japanese 4 Cultural Lessons

7: carbon based life forms containing the same organic molecules- Prentice Hall Chemistry

8: are “water 35 L, carbon 20 kg, ammonia 4 L, lime 1.5 kg, phosphorous 800g, salt 250g, saltpeter 100g, sulfur 80g, fluorine 7.5g, iron 5g, silicon 3g, and trace amounts of 15 other elements."- Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood

9: “speak American”-How to Tame a Wild Tongue Anzaldua

10: “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out” ”-How to Tame a Wild Tongue Anzaldua

11: Fossilized Poetry- The Poet Ralph Waldo Emerson

12: the downfall of Flint, Michigan- Roger and Me

13: For men have become the tools of their tool- Walden Henry David Thoreau

14: The day when humans are plugged into a matrix may not be too far off at this point- The Matrix

15: motivation and aggressiveness- “To What the Slave is the Fourth of July” Frederick Douglass

16: How will I ever be able to answer to Emerson’s call for an American Poet?- The Poet Ralph Waldo Emerson

17: fill the job description- “Song of Myself” Walt Whitman

18: patriotic speeches- WWII speeches Winston Churchill

19: frightening ability to rally a nation- WWII speeches Joseph Goebbels

20: Emperor that gracefully saved Japan- Emperor Hirohito WWII unconditional surrender speech

21: life of solitude in the woods- Walden Henry David Thoreau

22: lead a quiet of quiet desperation- Walden Henry David Thoreau

23: the same reaction- June Jordan

24: or predict an accurate economic future- Alan Blinder

25: Remember, しわが一つずつ増えていく- Wrinkle (しわ) by Gumi (Song)

26: Eventually I be laid under the “uncut hair of graves”- “Song of Myself” Walt Whitman