Seeds of Curiosity & Our Roots as Chinese Americans
- Grace Yeung
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
Updated: 18 hours ago
By: Grace Yeung and Yongjian Si
Standing in the living room of my sublet in San Francisco, my roommate, Yongjian, who I had just met, asked:
“Where are you from? Where is your family from?”
I cringed at that question. Born and raised in a small town in Delaware, people’s questions about my heritage culture often came from a place of othering rather than genuine curiosity.
“My family is from Fuzhou.” I did not expect that he would have any idea of where that is.
“Fuzhou, capital of Fujian province, right? Wow, I’d like to go someday! I know there is a large Fuzhounese community in the US.”
“You know where Fuzhou is? How?” This was the first time I met someone who got so excited when I mentioned Fuzhou.
“I was born and raised in Shandong. I immigrated to the US when I was 9 but I spent many summers in China with my grandparents.”
I was confused. “Why did you keep going back to China every summer? Wasn’t it more comfortable and fun in the US?"
When I first asked Grace which part of China she was from, I did not expect that would set the foundations for our relationship - and later a shared understanding of what it means to be Chinese American.
I told Grace about my hometown Jinan - the sizzling potstickers at Pianyifang, the pristine natural springs, the warm and hospitable people, and my grandpa’s historical Zhijinshi neighborhood. There was always something to do- explore the bustling markets with fresh produce, chatting with neighbors, and taking the bus to discover different neighborhoods.
“Those trips taught me more than Sunday Chinese school could”, I told Grace.
“I missed the simple things. Like walking through the local markets, learning to roam the city on my own, and trying local dishes I grew up with that I couldn't find in the US. But my favorite part was spending quality time with my grandparents and learning more about their lives through their stories.”
Grandparents. While my parents were working at our Chinese takeout restaurant, my grandparents were taking care of my brother and me. But despite all the time we spent together, I realized in that moment that I knew nothing about my grandparents’ childhoods or their hometown. They did not tell me stories about their childhood.
In the way that many children of immigrants do, I started becoming less proud of being Chinese, less curious about my family, and more focused on assimilating with my peers. The day I told my grandma I wanted spaghetti instead of Fuzhounese Rice Noodles (粉干), I could sense her disappointment. When my grandpa came to pick me up from school and cheerfully waved at me in Fuzhounese, I cringed.
“So, what is your fondest memory with your grandparents?”
“My grandpa is the most adventurous person I know. He used to take me on those bike rides around the city through Jinan. And I loved his stories - from different parts of China and beyond. Now that I think about it, he is probably the reason I’m so curious about the world”
My Nainai (grandma), on the other hand, defied odds by making it to medical school at a time when most girls in her village struggled to make it past third grade. Her empathy, encouragement, and resilience through difficult times allowed me to persevere through life’s tumultuous times while staying true to my dreams. My Nainai’s delicious cooking also stimulated my taste buds. To this day, I am a huge foodie and love trying and cooking dishes from all around the world.
Grace listened in a way that no one else had. For the first time since immigrating to the US, I didn’t feel tongue tied sharing an important part of my Chinese American story.
But then I remembered that I also used to bury that part of me as a teenager, I desperately practiced my American English accent, praying that no one would ask me where “I’m really from”. I pretended that I hated my summer trips to China because my classmates wouldn’t understand.
I still felt torn between two worlds that existed in separate spaces - my Chinese heritage and American life - never quite overlapping with each other.
“I really want to take you to Jinan someday”, I told Grace. "And I would also love to learn more about your family’s hometown in Fuzhou."
Hearing Yongjian describe China like this—vibrant, personal, alive—made me realize how little I’d let myself imagine China as anything but my parents’ stories of hardship. For the first time, I wondered: "What had I missed?”
It was only when I met Yongjian that the question "Where are you from? Where is your family from?” made me curious about my roots. Two years after that initial question, we finally boarded a plane for our homecoming trip China.
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