The truth is, being hapa isn't half-bad, not when I feel mostly good about myself. If I need to whitify myself to fit in, then I'm not hanging out with the right people. That's not to say that being bicultural is any easier than being bipolar, especially when the cultures are polar opposites of each other. I still ping-pong between translating Mama-isms at home, and then practicing
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3 Don't worry, Mama, I lived with her, but I didn't adopt her lifestyle. That much.
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social graces out in public. If I think its tough, imagine being one of the first-generationers who had to break the language and culture barrier. That said, in my humble opinion, being fluent in Mama-ese should fulfill all high school foreign language requirements.
Now for some earth-shattering news.
Truth: We are all hapas, in one way or another. Not necessarily half-Asian, but trust me, we are all half-something. Half-good, half-bad. Book smart, street stupid. Math guru, beach bum. Class geek, closet romantic. Student body president, school coward. Boyfriend, jerk. Couldn't we all be in the check all of the above category?
Truth: Were all Tourists. Whether its me feeling like one when I'm at a Chinese restaurant because I don't speak the bo-po-mo-fo language or when I entered SUMaC as the only math-hating camp prisoner. The important thing is to remember that touring is an adventure. Before you know it, you re hanging like one of the natives and having fun -- even with math.
Truth: I am still confused about a lot of things. I don't know if I II track down my father wherever he is or my daughter-disinheriting grandparents in Taiwan. I don't know how to reconcile my mother who was kicked out of her family for being with a white guy, yet has a tough time embracing her virtual brother-in-law for being a black one. All I can say is that Mama still perplexes me, but I know she always puts my best interests first. We just don't always agree on what those best interests are. (Can you say English major and not ma th?)
So I guess in the end, Belly-button Grandmother was right -- my future and past can be read in my belly button. That dimple in my core is what ties me to my mother and to both of my cultures. 4 The black-and-white truth is, my mothers love is tougher than any umbilical cord. So snip at it all you like, but you II never be able to sever it.
I'm fifteen, and I may be hyphen-thin, but I am not whisper-thin. So
***
4 Jasmine wanted our Asian Mafia to pierce our belly buttons on the last day of math camp. But, you know, I don't want to tamper with fate. Who knows what would happen to me if there's a hole in my belly button!?!
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Bellybutton Grandmother, if the Big Accident you predicted was a broken heart, you were right. But I survived. (Thanks!) By all accounts, I'm alive and kicking.
One last thing, there's no white guy in my love life. (Still waiting for that prediction to come true, Belly-button Grandmother. But hey, I'm glad you made it since I got to go to SUMaC!) Then again, my Kung Fu Queen soul sister, Jasmine, has a point. If you want to find the Good One who's right for you, being the United Nations of dating is the only way to go. Hello, world!
And that is the whole yin-yang truth about me, the one and only Patricia Yi-Phen Ho.
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Acknowledgments
The whole truth is, this book would still be a wishful dream without the help and support of many, many people. Above all, my heartfelt thanks go to Steven Malk, agent extraordinaire, and Alvina Ling, gifted editor. All writers should have such a team.
Every woman needs her own Kung Fu Kick-Ass Club, gal pals who are there for the good, the bad and the beautiful. My club began in second grade with original inductees Sayuri Oyama and Julie Yen. Shelli Ching could write the book on True Friendship. My StrataGem soul sisters who give to our community so generously, what would I do without you all -- Hilary Benson, Cindy Daugherty, Julie Francavilla, Birgit Gaiger, Julie Kouhia, Martha Mendillo, Lauren Stolzman, Nicole Ueland and Valerie Vasey? Hugs to Sue Lim, Margaret Williams, Kerry Brown, Jen Fukutaki, Stephanie DeVaan, Dana West, and Sophia Everett for urging me to write when I only wanted to chuck my computer.
Special thanks to my beloved writer-buddies, the newest inductees in this Kick-Ass Club, most notably Janet S. Wong, whose belief heartened and humbled me from the very start. Pages of thanks wouldn't even begin to express how much I owe her or my talented writing instructors, Janet Lee Carey, Meg Lippert and Brenda Z. Guiberson. Sarah Hager, Kathy Mikesell Hornbein and Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner, you were my patient sounding board while I wrote this book.
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I like math. I really do. But I will be the first to say that any mathematical errors in this novel are mine alone and not those of the gurus I tapped: Al Lippert, math coach, and Lizzie Hager, MIT whiz kid. Many thanks to Dr. Rick Sommer for creating SUMaC, or Stanford University Math Camp, his bona fide, amazing math program, and for so graciously allowing me to take creative license with it for this book. I encourage kids, particularly girls, to check out SUMaC.
Yes, folks, climbing buildings is as real as math problem sets. I've got two Stanford dudes, Clint C and Bryan P, to thank for helping me pick Patty's routes (not that they necessarily builder themselves -- wink, wink). Thanks to Clara Jong, who made me snort over her own fortune-telling experience years ago, and to Carol O'Connell for her accounting savvy.
Most of all, I want to shower my parents, Bob and Ann Chen, with love and gratitude, and remind my incredible kids how grateful I am for every minute with them. And finally, Robert, my story begins and ends with you.
Nothing but the truth: (and a few white lies) Page 20