by Judy Yung
My mother's economic role had a direct impact on family gender relations. Although my father made twice as much money as she did, he always acknowledged her ability to contribute to the family income and her acumen in business affairs. (Against Father's wishes, she wisely invested in two flats in North Beach, the neighborhood adjacent to Chinatown, in the early 196os.) Their marriage was an interdependent partnership, with priority always going to the well-being of the family. They shared decisions about our welfare, and Father was never ashamed to don an apron and help with the cooking, washing, and ironing. Mother ruled at home, controlling the pursestrings, disciplining us, and signing our report cards, but Father was always the head of the household in public, the spokesperson for the family in clan matters. Although the separation of public and private spheres had weakened over time, it remained in effect to a consistent degree: Mother always stayed home at night with us while Father went out to his tong to smoke the bamboo water pipe and socialize with his fraternal brothers.
With resumed immigration from China, Chinatown teemed with women and young children, and the community's restaurants and sweatshops benefited from the new supply of immigrant workers who, like my mother, lacked English-language and job skills to work or live anywhere but in Chinatown. In contrast, young war brides married to husbands who were somewhat educated and acculturated to American life did much better. The recipients of veteran's benefits, their husbands were able to provide for them, find housing outside Chinatown, and guide them in adjusting to life in the United States. Chinese students and professionals who had opted to remain in or come to America under the Displaced Persons or Refugee acts bypassed Chinatown altogether. Arriving at a time when attitudes and conditions were more favorable toward Chinese Americans than ever before and when their scientific and technical skills were in demand, they found work in academic and professional fields and housing in suburban communities away from Chinatown. This is not to say that racial discrimination against the Chinese ended. Although employment and housing discrimination was now illegal, Chinese Americans still experienced difficulties finding jobs commensurate with their abilities and assimilating into mainstream society. They were not always welcome as new homeowners in all-white neighborhoods or as members in certain elite social clubs.
By the 19 5 os, the public role of Chinese women was no longer questioned. But although they were very much a part of the labor force and public scene outside the home, they were still excluded from Chinatown's power structure. Women were yet to be made full-fledged members of the family, district, or fraternal organizations. No woman sat on the board of the Chinese Six Companies, Chinese Hospital, or Chinese American Citizens Alliance. As before, however, immigrant women of the educated, middle class continued to be active leaders in such gendersegregated organizations as the Chinese YWCA and Chinese Hospital Auxiliary. Although Protestant churches and associated organizations continued to work with Chinese women, offering them social activities and services in addition to salvation, they were not as effective as the Protestant missions of the Progressive era. Chinese nationalism, which had been the other influential force in women's emancipation, was also on the wane now that Chinese exclusion had come to an end and China had become Communist. The break in diplomatic relations between the United States and China, and the subsequent anti-Communist hysteria, forced many Chinese Americans to sever ties with their homeland and to desist in leftist political activities. Conservatism pervaded the community. Many people responded to the red-baiting tactics of this period by assuming a passive stance, coping through evasion rather than confrontation. Others sought to prove their loyalty to American democracy by supporting the Guomindang regime or engaging actively in partisan and electoral politics.
As in Jade Snow Wong's time, life as a second-generation Chinese American in San Francisco Chinatown during the Cold War era had its pluses and minuses. While we had the comforts of a safe, nurturing environment, we were often overprotected from the realities of racism and prevented from assimilating into mainstream society. Growing up in Chinatown meant attending a segregated public school with a Eurocentric curriculum taught by white teachers, and a Chinese language school where authoritarian teachers reinforced the values of unquestioned obe dience, respect for the Confucian classics, and allegiance to Chiang Kaishek's Republic of China. Among the benefits from such a dual education were bilingualism and biculturalism, and some of us developed a strong appreciation for our ethnic heritage. Yet there were costs as well: we were fit into a "model minority" mold, expected to work hard, become educated, and, by all means, not "rock the boat" or make the family, community, or the Chinese race "lose face."
Moreover, Chinese girls like myself were made consciously aware of our inferior status as females and our proper gender role as self-effacing homemakers. At home and in our limited social circles, boys were still favored over girls. My brother, Warren, always got the best servings of food at the dinner table. He had his own tricycle, while we five sisters shared a single pair of roller skates. My parents had big plans for his future, expecting him to finish college and become a doctor. As for us girls, it was considered enough that we finish high school and marry well, preferably with Chinese American men who could provide for us.
Our socialization in self-effacement was reinforced both at school and in the popular media. Women's history and contributions to society were not included in the public or Chinese school curriculums; nor was Chinese American history or the history of any minority group in the United States. In Chinese school, our role models were all male-patriotic heroes like Sun Yat-sen and Yue Fei; in public school, they were all whiteGeorge Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Florence Nightingale. Positive images of minorities and women were equally absent in the popular mass media. Hollywood moved from the China Doll and Dragon Lady roles portrayed by Anna May Wong to that of the sexy, subservient prostitute played by Nancy Kwan in The World of Suzie Wong. With billboards and magazines projecting the American standard of beauty as blonde, blue eyed, and big breasted, Chinese American women received a message of inferiority as strong as that conveyed at home. In spite of all of this, many of my peers strove to be all-American, participating in integrated high school club activities and competing to be cheerleaders, student body officers, and prom queens. Others of us chose to become socially active in the Chinese YWCA, Cameron House, Protestant churches, or Chinese language schools. But like the second generation of preWorld War II days, even as we sought to become assimilated into mainstream society, our physical features and our home and social life were constant reminders of our cultural differences, of our perceived racial and gender inferiority.
The combined forces of race, class, and gender oppression hit us in the face as soon as we left the safe environment of Chinatown. Our parents had drilled education and hard work into us, but, as our predecessors also discovered, the promised rewards did not always materialize. In high school, non-Chinese classmates sometimes made fun of our food and customs, called us names like "Chink" or "Suzie Wong," and didn't hesitate to beat us up if they felt like it. Although discrimination had lessened after the war and educational and employment opportunities were better than ever for the second generation (a larger proportion of Chinese American women, as compared to white women, were graduating from college, and increasing numbers of Chinese American women were moving up into the technical, sales, and professional fields), many of us still carried the double burden of being a minority within a minority in the labor market. Our predecessors had paved the way for us during the war by their proven efficiency as clerical workers in private firms outside Chinatown. But now, stereotyped as obedient "office wives," Chinese American women found themselves stuck at the clerical level, unable to move up the ladder into management. Women who entered new fields of work, such as art, science, business, law, and literature, found they had to work twice as hard in order to he considered equal. Statistics also showed that the earning power of Chinese American women was not commensurate with their level o
f education. In fact, the better educated we became, the further our incomes fell behind relative to white men, white women, and Chinese American men with the same educational background. Moreover, Chinese American women were noticeably underrepresented in jobs that required public contact and decision-making skills. There were more Chinese female accountants, nurses, and health technicians than lawyers, business executives, and physicians.'
Considering these limitations, it is not surprising that two of my sisters, Sharon and Patricia, got married right after finishing high school, while Virginia and I took the traditional female routes of becoming a schoolteacher and a librarian, respectively. Only Sandra followed a different drumbeat, choosing to pursue a master's degree in recreation and become a playground director. Much to my parents' relief, all of us married Chinese Americans with secure jobs (interracial dating and marriage were still taboo in the Chinatown community in the rg6os) and made our homes in the San Francisco Bay Area. In contrast to my mother's arranged marriage, however, all of us followed Western courtship and Chinese American wedding customs. None of us married wealthy men; as a result, we took on dual roles as wage earners and homemakers. Nev ertheless, compared to the previous generation, we led lives that were much better balanced in terms of work, family, and social responsibilities; and our gender relations were much more companionate and equitable. As far as my parents were concerned, we had realized the American dream. We were part of the middle class, financially secure in our jobs, and living in two-car-garage homes outside Chinatown.
Yet our complacency was about to be shaken. The civil rights movement of the z g 6os changed the course of history for all racial minorities, with reverberations felt by women, homosexuals, and the disabled further down the road. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., preaching nonviolent civil disobedience, inspired black Americans and supporters all over the country to demand civil rights and social justice. Their peaceful demonstrations, as well as the riots that soon engulfed our cities, pressured Congress to pass legislation that prohibited discrimination in public accommodations, employment, and electoral politics. In an attempt to remedy past discriminatory practices, affirmative action programs were instituted to encourage increased representation of minorities in both the private and public sectors. Under President Lyndon B. Johnson's Great Society program, federal funds were allocated to provide social services to poverty-stricken minority communities. The black power movement further shook up the country, instilling in racial minorities a new sense of ethnic pride.
Among the inspired and the empowered were Chinese Americans. Those of us attending college at the time reached a new awareness of racial and class oppression in our own lives and of its links to other Third World communities within and countries outside the United States. Moved to act on our political consciousness, we banded together with blacks, Chicanos, Native Americans, and other Asian Americans to demand racial justice, an end to the Vietnam War, and the establishment of ethnic studies at San Francisco State College and the University of California, Berkeley. Many of us returned to Chinatown as community activists to organize and agitate for improvements in the working and living conditions there.' One piece of liberal legislation to come out of the civil rights period was the Immigration and Naturalization Act of 1965. As a direct result of that act, the Chinese American population doubled between 1960 and 1970, and again in the next decade, and the sex ratio finally approached parity (see appendix table 1). With priority going to family reunification, many of the new immigrants from the Guangdong area chose to settle in Chinatown, compounding already existing ghetto conditions. The mass media and the Chinatown estab lishment could no longer mask the fact that the community was undergoing tremendous social transformation as a result of increased immigration and that social problems of juvenile delinquency, labor exploitation, poor housing, and mental illness were threatening to break the calm face of the gilded ghetto, San Francisco's most prized tourist attraction.
Unlike earlier immigrants, the large numbers of women and families who came after the 1965 act benefited from the antipoverty programs that were established under the Johnson administration. Newly created federally funded agencies such as the Economic Opportunity Council, Chinese Newcomers Service Center, and Self-Help for the Elderly helped the newcomers learn English, acquire job skills, and adapt to life in America. In addition, a number of grass-roots organizations such as the Chinese Progressive Association and Asian Community Center took up the task of addressing political and labor issues in the community. In contrast to the male-dominated, conservative Chinatown establishment, these new organizations were often headed by bilingual Chinese Americans-many of them women-who knew how to utilize protest tactics and government funding to achieve social gains. Indeed, the 1970s saw a resurgence of the political left in Chinatown, which openly challenged the Guomindang-controlled status quo. Demonstrations became a common occurrence as immigrant and American-born men and women worked together to demand a fair share of public funding for needed social services or to protest poor working conditions in Chinatown restaurants and garment shops. The 1974 strike against the Great Chinese American (Jung Sai) Company, owned by Esprit de Corps, lasted longer than even the 193 8 strike against National Dollar Stores. More than one hundred garment workers and their supporters picketed the factory for six months to protest unsanitary working conditions and interference with union activities. Like National Dollar Stores, Esprit responded by shutting the plant down. This time, with the help of the ILGWU, the women workers persisted in fighting their employer in the courts; they finally won a favorable settlement nine years later in 1983.
Although quite aware of the women's liberation movement, which followed on the heels of the civil rights movement, few Chinese American women joined in, primarily because the movement generally ignored the concerns of minority and working-class women. Nevertheless, many Chinese American women benefited from the feminists' campaign for equal pay, the widening of career choices, and the improved image gained for women as a group. Considered "double minorities," we were often sought after by universities and employers to fill affirmative action quotas in fields such as broadcast journalism, academia, construction, and law enforcement. Combined with our keen awareness of the revolutionary role of women in Communist Chula, who reputedly held up "half of heaven," the image of the liberated American woman moved us to take pride in our identity as Chinese American women and to link up with other Asian American and Third World women to address common issues of concern. Others of us were motivated to break our silence, reclaim our history, come out of the closet, and express ourselves in creative ways, whether it be in writing, film, dance, art, or music.
Thanks in part to the valuable training ground of minority and women's political movements and in part to improved U.S.-Chinese relations, the 197os also saw a boost in the status of Chinese American women and their increased participation in community and mainstream politics. Events in China continued to influence our status, political ideals, and self-esteem. The normalization of relations between China and the United States meant not only a reconnection to the homeland, but also a more positive attitude toward Chinese culture and Chinese Americans on the part of the American public. During the 1970s, many community activists urged that we emulate China's progressive policies regarding the status of women and the working class. Thus encouraged, Chinese American women became increasingly active in mainstream politics as contributors, campaigners, and political candidates. California secretary of state March Fong Eu led the way when she became the first Chinese American woman to hold a state office in 1974. She was followed by Lillian Sing, who was appointed California Municipal Court judge in 1981; Julie Tang, who was elected to the San Francisco Community College Board in 1981; Mabel Teng, who was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1994; and Angie Fa, the first Chinese American lesbian to join the San Francisco School Board in 199z.
All of these changes have certainly made a difference for women like my mother, who today basks
in her retirement, comfortable in her paidoff North Beach flat and surrounded by pictures of her grandchildren who have finished college and have families of their own. As a senior citizen, she takes advantage of the discounted bus fares and senior meals. She has also become an avid television fan because of the many Cantonese programs now available to immigrants like herself. With more time to pursue her own interests and contribute to her community, she is an active elder in the Chinese Independent Baptist church, in charge of making home visits to members in need. On her own, she has also joined tour groups and traveled to Europe, Mexico, Canada, Japan, and the Holy Land. When I asked her if she was glad she had come to America, she first echoed Great-Grandmother's sentiments: "To me, life was a lot easier in Macao. Life was so hectic here with so many children born close together and no help. America was not the heaven I expected it to be." But on further reflection, she said: "I have since traveled around a bit, and to me, America is the best country to live in. Why? Because we have our freedom here, the weather's better than in China, and food is cheap and plentiful. No matter where I go, there is no place like San Francisco."
The groundwork laid by our foremothers for a better life at home, in the workplace, and in the larger society has not been lost on today's generation of Chinese American women. Despite media reports of our success as a model minority group, we are painfully aware that racism and sexism must still be combatted, that not all of us have attained the American dream of equality and socioeconomic success. Consciously aware of how race, class, and gender intersect in our lives, we follow in our mothers' footsteps, doing what we can to improve the overall quality of life for ourselves, for our children, and for all.