A relative and his family came to visit, with their toddler. Soft cheeks, red lips, chubby hands, cute, cuddly. The very picture of a darling kid whom everyone wants to hold and love. But this little child caused a storm in my house that day, a storm that rages on, to this day, and will probably be hovering for the rest of his life.
“Bao Bei, let’s eat these mian tiao,” his grandma, who also came, lovingly stretched out her hands, speaking in Chinese, holding out a bowl of chicken noodles she had just cooked. She put the child on her lap. “Mian tiao,” he imitated her, picked up a long stringy noodle, held it high and lowered it into his mouth inch by inch. “Rain, I’m eating rain!” he giggled.
“Silly boy, that’s mian tiao,” laughed grandma
“Mian tiao,” the boy said, imitating her slight southern accent in Mandarin. “Mian tiao, mian tiao, mian tiao…”
His dad was also sitting at the table, watching him. A frown crawled into his brows. “Noodles, Chris, these are noodles,” he said, in English.
At this, the grandmother narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have to use English? You can teach him English when we are not around. What’s wrong with learning Chinese?”
“Because he is my baby. I decide what language he will speak. And I have always felt that once we are in America, our kids should learn English, not Chinese.”
“But what about his mom? His mom hardly speaks any English. How can she talk to her own kid?”
The son was not daunted. “She will have to learn English too.”
“Yeah, that will be quick,” she said. “at least another five to ten years. And meanwhile, she can not talk to her son?” The mom looked her son. “And, you are depriving me of my grandson. How can I talk to him if he doesn’t learn Chinese? I love this kid. I want to be able to talk to him. For years and years, as long as I’m living. You already took away my older grandkids because they don’t know any Chinese. We could barely talk with crazy gestures, as if we were all idiots knowing no languages. Remember Johnny got depressed after breaking up with his girlfriend? He looked so low and downtrodden that my heart bled for him. He shut himself in the room most of the day and hardly came out except to eat. He needed someone to comfort him. I desperately wanted to be that person. But I could not talk to him. Damn that language barrier! We were likely strangers. That was all your fault. Every day I watched him suffer and I suffered with him, but I could not help him! Now, with this baby, you are going to do the same thing to him? What’s wrong with learning Chinese?” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Because he will get confused with two languages. Because people will look down upon him. He is a foreigner if he speaks another language. He is an American. I want him to blend in, grow up like a normal American, not being looked down upon by others. I’m responsible for his future.”
The mom put the toddler on the floor and stood up. Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. “Lots of people in this country speak other languages. Are they all looked down upon?”
My kids, sensing tension, came over, took the little boy’s hand and said, “Let’s go play in our rooms, OK?” and they left the living room.
“Yes, they are.” The son also stood up, glaring at his mom, “I know they are. This country is founded on the English language. Anyone who does not speak it, anyone who speaks another language, especially if he is an immigrant, is despised and discriminated against. I am a living proof. I don’t want my kids to go through what I did. I want them to be just Americans. Nothing less.”
They were almost shouting now. We had a hard time quieting both down. I had not expected this scene and was quite saddened. I had my own opinion on this, but it was private family business. That kid was not mine, and I had no business intruding. Yet, I felt this weight on my chest ever since that day. Whenever I see that child again, I cannot help but wonder how different things could have been but is not. I also know that similar scenes are probably replayed in countless families in the US. It is hard to believe that in one of the most diverse countries in the world, such arguments still rage with regularity, that tears are still being shed and tempers flare over it, that people still struggle with what language to teach their children, or not.