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4.

Dear Mom,

Relax. Don't be so anxious. You don't need to worry so much. I'll be okay. I might not know exactly what I'm doing, but I'll figure it out. You did your job well, and now I just want you to be happy.

The world is a much different place now. Yes, there are still lots of dangerous people and situations out there, but trust me to know how to navigate -- you don't need to look over my shoulder for me any more.

And some other notes - I know it's a product of the time when you were growing up, but it's not right to think that all African American's are "shady" and that all Hispanics are "lazy". By that logic, would you also consider all Chinese immigrants to be greedy? Also, there are opportunities abound for women, and a kitchen is not "a woman's place". The world is becoming better, more progressive and understanding and loving and peaceful, and I wish you could understand this too, though I know the massive inertia of an upbringing.

And for your grandchild, he doesn't need to be a doctor, engineer, or lawyer to live a happy and fulfilling life. I wish you could have understood that for your children too, although I know you only had the best of intentions for us to lead a good life; maybe that was the only path you knew. There are things more important in life than finances like having good relationships with people and being happy.

I wish I had the wisdom to be able to convince you of all these things. But all that aside, thank you for the opportunities you gave us, and I'll do my best to make you happier, because you definitely deserve it.

Love,

親愛的媽媽，

放輕鬆。不要那麼着急，妳不必擔心這麼多。我會沒事的。我也許不完全知道我現在正在做什麼，但我縂會想出來的。妳一直做得很好，現在我只想要妳快快樂樂的。

現在的世界是一個非常不同的地方。是的，還有很多危險的人和情況在那裡，但請相信我知道如何去找到路 - 妳再不需要在後面幫我看著。

還有一些其他的事 - 我知道這是由於妳成長的時代背景，但是認為所有的非裔美國人都是“陰暗的”，所有的西班牙裔都是“懶惰的”是不對的。按照這個邏輯，妳也會認為所有中國移民都是貪婪的嗎？而且，婦女現在也有很多的機會，廚房不是“一個女人的地方”。世界正在變得越來越好，越來越進步和理解，有愛心和和平。雖然我知道養成的想法不容易一下改變，但我也希望妳也能理解這一點。

至於妳的孫子，他不一定要是一個醫生，工程師或者律師才能過一個快樂充實的生活。我希望妳對妳的孩子也曾有這種理解，雖然我知道妳只有盡心想讓我們過上好生活;也許這是妳知道的唯一道路。生活中有一些比財務更重要的東西，譬如與人有良好的關係和快樂。

我希望我有智慧能夠說服妳所有的這些事情。但除此之外，謝謝妳給我們的機會，我會盡力讓妳更快樂，因為妳這是絕對應該得到的。

愛妳的，

亲爱的妈妈，

放轻松。不要那么着急，妳不必担心这么多。我会没事的。我也许不完全知道我现在正在做什么，但我总会想出来的。妳一直做得很好，现在我只想要妳快快乐乐的。

现在的世界是一个非常不同的地方。是的，还有很多危险的人和情况在那里，但请相信我知道如何去找到路 - 妳再不需要在后面帮我看着。

还有一些其他的事 - 我知道这是由于妳成长的时代背景，但是认为所有的非裔美国人都是“阴暗的”，所有的西班牙裔都是“懒惰的”是不对的。按照这个逻辑，妳也���认为所有中国移民都是贪婪的吗？而且，妇女现在也有很多的机会，厨房不是“一个女人的地方”。世界正在变得越来越好，越来越进步和理解，有爱心和和平。虽然我知道养成的想法不容易一下改变，但我也希望妳也能理解这一点。

至于妳的孙子，他不一定要是一个医生，工程师或者律师才能过一个快乐充实的生活。我希望妳对妳的孩子也曾有这种理解，虽然我知道妳只有尽心想让我们过上好生活;也许这是妳知道的唯一道路。生活中有一些比财务更重要的东西，譬如与人有良好的关系和快乐。

我希望我有智慧能够说服妳所有的这些事情。但除此之外，谢谢妳给我们的机会，我会尽力让妳更快乐，因为妳这是绝对应该得到的。

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3.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I remember elementary school was the start of it all. You told me how I used to complain to the teachers how little I slept. I don’t remember that. I only remember being forced to stay up past midnight to study. I remember I would have to get up at 6AM to make the commute to get to school on time. I remember always passing out in the car during the commute on the way home after daycare. I remember liking daycare. I don’t remember liking home. I remember that studying was always after dinner. I remember being grabbed and pushed into the pitch-black garage for not answering a question right. I remember crying alone in the garage. I remember thinking about jumping off a bridge. I remember being locked out at night because I didn’t do well in school. I remember screaming outside the door, crying while hitting the door with a rock. I still remember that door. We sold the house though -- do you think they changed the door? Or do you think those scratches are still there? At least for middle school, we were closer and there was no commute. I remember getting presents for my birthday. I remember my presents were used as a punishment. If I didn’t do well in school, my present would be thrown away. I remember not wanting presents anymore for my birthday. I remember being asked what grades I got and what test scores posted. I remember never getting lower than a B in any class. I don’t remember being asked how my day was. I remember being kicked out of the house. I remember being told to go die. I remember being called trash. I remember being called worthless. I remember being yelled at in public. I remember being hit a lot. I remember my lip bleeding. I remember being hit with a knife. I remember thinking about jumping off the bridge. I remember promising myself to never forgive and to never forget. High school was better. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I remember being in the top of my class. I remember still being hit a lot because I wasn’t good enough. I remember you closing the windows before you started yelling, scared the neighbors might hear you. I remember still being kicked out often. I remember being punched in the face. I remember almost calling the police. I remember starting a blog, calling it my own Pandora’s box. I remember writing a post whenever I was hurt. I remember wanting to do other extracurriculars. I remember being told I was only allowed to do the ones you thought would be beneficial for college. I remember being told to go abroad volunteering because you read that someone wrote about that to get into college. I remember you screaming about how much that SAT class cost and asking me why I didn’t do well. I thought I did well. I remember running away from home. I don’t remember how many times I ran away from home. I remember asking myself if I would be sad if you died. I don’t think I would shed a single tear. College finally started and moving out. I survived the hell-hole that was home. I remember trying to read Pandora’s box, but not being able to get through it. I still don’t have the courage to read it all. I remember reading about the cluster suicides at Gunn. I remember wondering if I would still be here if those suicides were at my school. I remember learning how to self-love, how to not be too hard on myself like you were, how I was more than just my grades and scores. I remember you starting to say “I love you.” You still say it, but I would rather choose to die than to say it back.

I understand your life wasn’t easy. I know that you sacrificed a lot to immigrate here and move to a location with one of the top schools. I know that having enough clothes and being able to eat full meals and having the opportunity to do the extracurriculars you forced me to do was everything you wanted when you were younger. I understand why you think I should be grateful for everything you have provided for me. I know why you think you did everything right.

But I will not betray the younger me. I know that he deserved so much more. I know he was only able to get through it by promising that he would keep quiet and hold his resentment until he found his happiness. You can call it petty, but I don’t care. Surviving those years almost killed me. I understand why you did what you did, but I will never forgive those sins. I will never forget the pain or trauma I went through because the younger me deserved so much more.

Recently, you asked me why I only remembered the bad parts of your parenting. Are you fucking kidding me? Go fuck yourself.

親愛的媽媽爸爸，

在我記憶中這一切都是從小學開始的。你跟我說我以���都是如何向老師抱怨睡得太少。我不記得這個，我只記得被迫要讀書讀到過了半夜。我記得爲了準時趕上車子去上學我必須早上六點鐘起床。我記得總是在從安親班回家的車上就睡着了。我記得我喜歡安親班，但我不記得喜歡回家。我記得晚飯之後總是要去作功課。我記得因爲沒有答對一個問題而被抓住並推進烏黑的車庫。我記得我一個人在車庫裡哭泣。我記得想要從一座橋跳下去。我記得因為我在學校的表現不好，晚上被鎖在外面。我記得在門外尖叫著，一邊哭一邊用一塊��頭敲門。我還記得那扇門。不過我們賣了那房子 - 你想他們換了門嗎？或者你覺得那些刮痕還在？ 至少在中學時，我們住得比較近，不用通車。我記得我的生日會收到禮物。我記得我的禮物被拿來當作懲罰。如果我在學校的表現不好，我的禮物會被丟掉。我記得再也不想要生日禮物了。我記得被問到我得到了什麼課業分數和測試成績。我記得從來沒有一科比B低。我不記得曾被問過今天好不好。我記得被趕出了房子。我記得被說去死。我記得被叫作垃圾。我記得被叫作無用的東西。我記得在公開場合被大聲嚷。我記得常被打。我記得我的嘴唇流血。我記得曾被用刀打到。我記得曾想要跳橋。我記得承諾我自己永遠不會原諒，也永遠不會忘記。 到了高中有好一點，我不怕了。我記得我是班上的前几名。我記得我還是常常被打，因為我還不夠好。我記得你在開始大嚷之前會先關上窗戶，因爲害怕鄰居可能會聽到你的聲音。我記得仍然經常被趕出去。我記得被打在臉上。我記得幾乎要打電話給警察。我開始寫一個博客，稱之為我自己的潘多拉盒子。我記得每當我受傷的時候就寫一篇文章。我記得我想要做其他的課外活動。我記得被告知只被允許做你認為對大學有益的活動。我記得被告知要出國作志工，因為你讀到有人寫到關於如何用它申請上了大學。我記得你痛心SAT補習花了多少錢，問我為什麼考得不好。我以為我考得很好。我記得我離家出走。我不記得我離家出走了幾次。我記得我問過我自己，如果你死了，我會不會傷心。我不認為我會流下一滴淚。 大學終於開始，可以搬出來了。我熬過這個叫家的地獄而倖存下來了。我記得嘗試要去讀“潘多拉的盒子”，但是無法完成它。我仍然沒有勇氣去讀完全部。我記得讀過關於Gunn高中的集體自殺。我記得我在想說如果這些自殺發生在我的學校，我今天是否還會在這裡。我記得學習如何愛自己，如何不要像你一樣對我自己太嚴厲，如何我這個人不僅僅是衹是成績和分數。我記得你開始會說“我愛你”，你還是會說，但我寧願去死也不願囘這句話。

我理解你的生活並不容易。我知道你爲了移民來這裡，並搬到一個頂尖的學區而犧牲了很多。我知道有足夠的衣物，能夠吃飽飯，有機會做你所強迫我做的那些課外活動，就是你年輕時所想要的一切。我理解你為什麼認為我應該感謝你為我提供的一切。我���道你為什麼認為你做的一切正確。

但我不會背叛那個年輕時的我。我知道他應該受到遠為更好的。我知道他只能承諾自己在找到自己的幸福之前保持沉默，忍住怨恨，才能熬過這一切。你可以認爲這些不算什麽，但我不在乎。撐過這幾年幾乎要了我的命。我明白你為什麼做了你所做的事，但我永遠不會原諒這些罪過。我永遠不會忘記我所經歷的痛苦或創傷，因為那個年輕時的我應該受到遠為更好的。

最近，你問我為什麼我只記得你們當父母作得不好的部分。 你這是開他媽的玩笑嗎？ 去你的。

亲爱的妈妈爸爸，

在我记忆中这一切都是从小学开始的。你跟我说我以前都是如何向老师抱怨睡得太少。我不记得这个，我只记得被迫要读书读到过了半夜。我记得为了准时赶上车子去上学我必须早上六点钟起床。我记得总是在从安亲班回家的车上就睡着了。我记得我喜欢安亲班，但我不记得喜欢回家。我记得晚饭之后总是要去作功课。我记得因为没有答对一个问题而被抓住并推进乌黑的车库。我记得我一个人在车库里哭泣。我记得想要从一座桥跳下去。我记得因为我在学校的表现不好，晚上被锁在外面。我记得在门外尖叫着，一边哭一边用一块石头敲门。我还记得那扇门。不过我们卖了那房子 - 你想他们换了门吗？或者你觉得那些刮痕还在？ 至少在中学时，我们住得比较近，不用通车。我记得我的生日会收到礼物。我记得我的礼物被拿来当作惩罚。如果我在学校的表现不好，我的礼物会被丢掉。我记得再也不想要生日礼物了。我记得被问到我得到了什么课业分数和测试成绩。我记得从来没有一科比B低。我不记得曾被问过今天好不好。我记得被赶出了房子。我记得被说去死。我记得被叫作垃圾。我记得被叫作无用的东西。我记得在公开场合被大声嚷。我记得常被打。我记得我的嘴唇流血。我记得曾被用刀打到。我记得曾想要跳桥。我记得承诺我自己永远不会原谅，也永远不会忘记。 到了高中有好一点，我不怕了。我记得我是班上的前几名。我记得我还是常常被打，因为我还不够好。我记得你在开始大嚷之前会先关上窗户，因为害怕邻居可能会听到你的声音。我记得仍然经常被赶出去。我记得被打在脸上。我记得几乎要打电话给警察。我开始写一个博客，称之为我自己的潘多拉盒子。我记得每当我受伤的时候就写一篇文章。我记得我想要做其他的课外活动。我记得被告知只被允许做你认为对大学有益的活动。我记得被告知要出国作志工，因为你读到有人写到关于如何用它申请上了大学。我记得你痛心SAT补习花了多少钱，问我为什么考得不好。我以为我考得很好。我记得我离家出走。我不记得我离家出走了几次。我记得我问过我自己，如果你死了，我会不会伤心。我不认为我会流下一滴泪。 大学终于开始，可以搬出来了。我熬过这个叫家的地狱而幸存下来了。我记得尝试要去读“潘多拉的盒子”，但是无法完成它。我仍然没有勇气去读完全部。我记得读过关于Gunn高中的集体自杀。我记得我在想说如果这些自杀发生在我的学校，我今天是否还会在这里。我记得学习如何爱自己，如何不要像你一样对我自己太严厉，如何我这个人不仅仅是只是成绩和分数。我记得你开始会说“我爱你”，你还是会说，但我宁愿去死也不愿回这句话。

我理解你的生活并不容易。我知道你为了移民来这里，并搬到一个顶尖的学区而牺牲了很多。我知道有足够的衣物，能够吃饱饭，有机会做你所强迫我做的那些课外活动，就是你年轻时所想要的一切。我理解你为什么认为我应该感谢你为我提供的一切。我知道你为什么认为你做的一切正确。

但我不会背叛那个年轻时的我。我知道他应该受到远为更好的。我知道他只能承诺自己在找到自己的幸福之前保持沉默，忍住怨恨，才能熬过这一切。你可以认为这些不算什么，但我不在乎。撑过这几年几乎要了我的命。我明白你为什么做了你所做的事，但我永远不会原谅这些罪过。我永远不会忘记我所经历的痛苦或创伤，因为那个年轻时的我应该受到远为更好的。

最近，你问我为什么我只记得你们当父母作得不好的部分。你这是开他妈的玩笑吗？去你的。

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2.

Dear Mom,

When I was six, you started me out in piano. You took me to weekly lessons with a nice elderly Chinese man who gave me candy and trinkets. At the lessons, you sat by me, learning to read notes and play scales so that you could help me practice at home. You sold your wedding ring to buy me a piano.

When I was seven, you signed me up for classes at the local ice rink. You stood by the edge of the rink, encouraging me as I flopped, floundered, and cried my eyes out on the ice. At home, you showed me videos of Michelle Kwan and Chen Lu. “You could be like this one day!”

When I was eight, you took me to a Chinese dance academy. You wanted me to be more connected to Chinese culture, after I asked you to get me McDonalds for lunch at school. You mentioned that had your parents had the money when you were young, you would’ve become a dancer.

When I was ten, I completed the final level of the state piano tests. The nice elderly Chinese man gave me a graduation certificate, and told you that he was no longer a suitable teacher for me. You sought out other teachers in the area, finally settling with a Polish lady who taught at the local community college. She charged $100 per lesson.

Soon, you were driving up to 200 miles per week, shuttling me from piano to skating to dance classes. I attended some sort of lesson almost every day after school; piano and skating on Mondays, violin on Tuesdays, zither on Friday, dance on Saturday, and Chinese school on Sunday.

When I started middle school, you lost your job. You never mentioned it explicitly, but I could tell that we had less money to spend. Occasionally, when I would slack off at a lesson, you’d remind me of how much the lesson cost. I remember thinking, “well I never asked you to spend that much money on me,” but said nothing.

In seventh grade, school started to get tough, and waking up at 4am for skating classes were starting to take a toll on me. I mentioned quitting skating and violin, but you insisted that I should continue. You reminded me of the time and money that had been invested to bring me this far, and told me that I just needed to grit my teeth to make it through. You couldn’t comprehend why I would voluntarily throw away opportunities that you’d worked so hard to provide for me. You mentioned the word sacrifice—the word made me cringe.

In eighth grade, I started to resent you. My friends at school would talk about how Asian parents were too pushy and demanding, and I started to wonder why you couldn’t be more like the relaxed American parents that let their kids roam free. For some reason, I internalized American parenting as ideal, and anger built inside of me as I thought of how “pushy” you were. I decided that I would need to assert my rights as an “American” child—the right to be independent and make my own decisions. I insisted that you stop sitting in on my piano lessons. I demanded that you wait in the car while I completed my skating sessions. I told you that I would quit skating, no matter what you said.

You were obviously hurt by my actions, and often wondered aloud what you had done to deserve such backlash. You couldn’t understand why I was suddenly pushing you away. You would repeat: “all I ever did was give, give, give, and now this is what I get?” Hearing these words though, only made me angrier. I didn’t understand why I “owed” you something, when I had never asked you to give me anything. Sending me to piano lessons, skating and dance classes, were all things you had volunteered for, I thought. If anything, it seemed like I was the one suffering, being forced to continue with skating when I didn’t care for it anymore.

Even though I’d requested that you sit outside during my piano lessons, you didn’t back down that easily. You insisted that you had the right to listen in on my lessons, because you paid and drove me to them. I tried to counter you with all sorts of arguments and threats—that it was Dad who paid for lessons because he was the one with the job, that I would get my license as soon as I turned 16 and drive myself to lessons, etc. Our relationship devolved to the point where we constantly fought over who had more authority. Looking back, I don’t know why winning that fight was so important to me. Perhaps it was intrinsic pride, or the inclination to model my life after an American ideal, to be independent and have the freedom to do whatever I wanted to.

Eventually, you did let me quit skating. By that time though, we no longer had a working relationship. I still resented the fact that I had been seemingly forced to continue skating. You continued to mention how you’d sacrificed so much but never got anything in return. It made me angry, but more than anything, stemmed an underlying feeling of guilt that still stands as a barrier in our relationship today.

Mom, recently you called me and told me about a concert you’d be singing in with your choir. Our conversation made me think back to how you told me you wanted to be a singer or a dancer when you were young. At the time, your parents didn’t have the money to support you, and you had to spend your time caring for your grandma and younger brother. Later, you went to college and met Dad. He eventually got a job in America, an unpassable opportunity at the time, and you decided to make the move with him. Soon after, you became pregnant, and I was born. It was only after I left for college that you were able to finally do what you wanted—to sing and dance.

You often mentioned giving me opportunities that you never had. I can’t help but think that that was the reason why you wanted to give me the chance to try all sorts of different activities, even if we didn’t always have the money for it. Perhaps you wanted to see me succeed, in a way that you didn’t have the chance to. Perhaps it was to help me achieve the American dream, doing everything you could to make sure I’d live a better life in America.

Regardless of your reasoning, I’d just like to say that I’ve come to appreciate all the opportunities you’ve given me. I realize now that some of my resentment toward you, especially in my high school years, may have been misguided. I now feel lucky to have started out in so many different activities that have given me a good foundation in many areas—music, dance, athletics, Chinese language, etc. So thank you, Mom, for being the driving force behind who I am today. I love you, even though I may never be able to tell you that to your face.

親愛的媽媽，

當我六歲的時候，妳讓我開始學鋼琴。妳每個禮拜帶我去找一個中國長者，他會給我一些糖果和小飾品。上課的時候，妳會坐在我身邊，學習閱讀音符和彈音階，好幫助我在家裡練習。妳賣了妳的結婚戒指給我買了一架鋼琴。

當我七歲的時候，妳在當地的溜冰場上替我報名了。妳站在溜冰場的邊上，當我在冰上摔倒，掙扎，大哭起來的時侯鼓勵我。在家裡，妳給我看關穎珊和陳露的錄影片，“有一天妳也可以像這樣！”

當我八歲的時候，妳帶我去中國舞蹈學院。在我要求妳讓我在學校吃麥當勞當午餐之後，妳希望我能夠與中國文化有更多的聯結。妳提到如果妳年輕時父母有這個錢，妳就會成為一個舞者。

當我十歲的時候，我完成了州級鋼琴考試的最後一級。那位和藹的中國長者給了我一張畢業證書，告訴妳他已經不再適合教我了。妳尋找該地區的其他老師，最後找上一位在當地社區學院教課的波蘭女士。她每堂課收取100美元。

很快地妳每個星期就要開車開到200英里之遠，載我往來於鋼琴，滑冰及舞蹈班之間。我幾乎每天放學後都要參加一些課程。星期一鋼琴和溜冰，星期二小提琴，星期五古箏，星期六舞蹈，星期天中文學校。

當我開始上中學時，妳失去了工作。妳從來沒有明講，但我可以感覺得到我們能花的錢少了。偶爾，當我在某個課程上放鬆了，妳會提醒我這課程有多貴。我記得我那時在想：“但是我從來沒有要求妳花這麼多錢在我身上”，但我什麽都沒說。

七年級的時候，課業開始變得困難，要一大早四點起來上溜冰課開始對我造成問題。我提到要放棄溜冰和小提琴，但妳堅持要我繼續下去。妳提醒我走到這個地步已投入的時間和金錢，並告訴我我只需要咬緊牙關熬過它。妳不能理解為什麼我會自願放棄妳這麽辛苦工作來為我提供的機會。妳提到犧牲這個詞 - 這個詞讓我覺得很難以苟同。

到了八年級的時候，我開始怨恨妳了。我在學校的朋友們會談論亞洲��父母太過緊逼和嚴格，我開始想説為什麼妳不能像美國的父母那樣放鬆，讓他們的孩子自由自在。由於某種原因，我將美國式的教養視為理想。當我想到妳是如此緊逼時，在我內心開始產生憤怒。我決定我需要主張我作為一個美國小孩的權利 - 獨立的權利而且讓自己做主。我堅持妳停止一起上鋼琴課。我要求妳在我上滑冰課時在車上等。我跟妳説我會放棄滑冰 - 不論妳說什麼。

妳顯然因爲我的行為而感到受傷，並經常想說妳是做了什麼會得到這樣子的反彈。妳不明白為什麼我突然把妳從我的生活中推開。妳會重複說：“我所做的一切都是在付出，付出，付出，結果這就是我得到的？“ 但是聽到這些話，只是讓我更憤怒。我不明白當我從來沒有要求妳給我什麼的時侯，為什麼我會欠妳。我認爲送我到鋼琴課，溜冰和舞蹈班，都是妳自願的。如果真的有什麼，似乎我才是那個受苦的人 - 當我不想要它時還要被迫繼續滑冰。

雖然我在鋼琴課時要求妳坐在外面，但妳並沒有那麽容易讓步。妳堅持妳有權利旁聽我的課，因為是妳付的錢和開車載我來的。我試圖用各種的論點和威脅來反駁妳 - 那就是錢是爸爸付的因為他才是那個在上班的人，我一到十六歲就會馬上去拿到駕照自己開車來上課，等等。我們的關係淪落到了我們要不斷爭取誰擁有更多決定權的地步。現在回頭看，我不知道為什麼贏得這場爭戰對我來說是這麽重要。也許是內在的驕傲，或者是傾向於根據美國理想塑造自己的生活，獨立自主，可以自由去做任何我想做的事情。

最後，妳還是讓我放棄了滑冰。但是到了那時候，我們已不再有一個能夠良好溝通的關係。我仍然對我似乎是被迫繼續滑冰的事實感到不滿。妳繼續提起妳如何犧牲了這麼多，但卻從來沒有得到任何回報。它使我生氣，但更重要的是，它導致了一種潛在的內疚感，到今天仍然是我們關係中的障礙。

媽媽，最近妳打電話給我，跟我說到妳要和妳的合唱團一起唱歌的音樂會。我們的談話讓我回想起妳如何告訴我，當妳年輕的時候，妳想成為一個歌手或舞者。當時，妳的父母沒有錢來支援妳，而妳必須花時間照顧妳的祖母和弟弟。後來，妳去上大學，遇到了爸爸。他最終在美國找到了一份工作，在當時是一個很難得的機會。妳決定和他一起走。不久之後，妳懷孕了，然後我出生了。只有在我去上大學之後，妳才終於能夠做妳想要的 - 唱歌和跳舞。

妳經常提到給我妳自己從來沒有過的機會。我不禁想到，這就是為什麼即使我們並不總是有錢可負擔它，妳還是想要讓我有機會嘗試各種不同的活動。也許妳想要——以一種妳沒有機會去做的方式——看到我成功。也許是為了幫助我實現美國夢，盡一切可能來確保我在美國過上美好的生活。

不管妳的道理如何，我只是想說，我開始感激妳給我的所有機會。我現在意識到，我對妳的一些怨恨，尤其是在我高中的時期，可能是被誤導了。我現在感到幸運的是我有開始了這麽多不同的活動，這些活動給了我在很多領域的良好基礎——音樂，舞蹈，田徑，中文等等。所以，謝謝妳媽媽，作為我能有今天的我背後的動力。我愛妳，即使我可能永遠無法當妳的面告訴妳。

亲爱的妈妈，

当我六岁的时候，妳让我开始学钢琴。妳每个礼拜带我去找一个中国长者，他会给我一些糖果和小饰品。上课的时候，妳会坐在我身边，学习阅读音符和弹音阶，好帮助我在家里练习。妳卖了妳的结婚戒指给我买了一架钢琴。

当我七岁的时候，妳在当地的溜冰场上替我报名了。妳站在溜冰场的边上，当我在冰上摔倒，挣扎，大哭起来的时侯鼓励我。在家里，妳给我看关颖珊和陈露的录影片，“有一天妳也可以像这样！”

当我八岁的时候，妳带我去中国舞蹈学院。在我要求妳让我在学校吃麦当劳当午餐之后，妳希望我能够与中国文化有更多的联结。妳提到如果妳年轻时父母有这个钱，妳就会成为一个舞者。

当我十岁的时候，我完成了州级钢琴考试的最后一级。那位和蔼的中国长者给了我一张毕业证书，告诉妳他已经不再适合教我了。妳寻找该地区的其他老师，最后找上一位在当地社区学院教课的波兰女士。她每堂课收取100美元。

很快地妳每个星期就要开车开到200英里之远，载我往来于钢琴，滑冰及舞蹈班之间。我几乎每天放学后都要参加一些课程。星期一钢琴和溜冰，星期二小提琴，星期五古筝，星期六舞蹈，星期天中文学校。

当我开始上中学时，妳失去了工作。妳从来没有明讲，但我可以感觉得到我们能花的钱少了。偶尔，当我在某个课程上放松了，妳会提醒我这课程有多贵。我记得我那时在想：“但是我从来没有要求妳花这么多钱在我身上”，但我什么都没说。

七年级的时候，课业开始变得困难，要一大早四点起来上溜冰课开始对我造成问题。我提到要放弃溜冰和小提琴，但妳坚持要我继续下去。妳提醒我走到这个地步已投入的时间和金钱，并告诉我我只需要咬紧牙关熬过它。妳不能理解为什么我会自愿放弃妳这么辛苦工作来为我提供的机会。妳提到牺牲这个词 - 这个词让我觉得很难以苟同。

到了八年级的时候，我开始怨恨妳了。我在学校的朋友们会谈论亚洲的父母太过紧逼和严格，我开始想说为什么妳不能像美国的父母那样放松，让他们的孩子自由自在。由于某种原因，我将美国式的教养视为理想。当我想到妳是如此紧逼时，在我内心开始产生愤怒。我决定我需要主张我作为一个美国小孩的权利 - 独立的权利而且让自己做主。我坚持妳停止一起上钢琴课。我要求妳在我上滑冰课时在车上等。我跟妳说我会放弃滑冰 - 不论妳說什么。

妳显然因为我的行为而感到受伤，并经常想說妳是做了什么会得到这样子的反弹。妳不明白为什么我突然把妳从我的生活中推开。妳会重复说：“我所做的一切都是在付出，付出，付出，结果这就是我得到的？“ 但是听到这些话，只是让我更愤怒。我不明白当我从来没有要求妳给我什么的时侯，为什么我会欠妳。我认为送我到钢琴课，溜冰和舞蹈班，都是妳自愿的。如果真的有什么，似乎我才是那个受苦的人 - 当我不想要它时还要被迫继续滑冰。

虽然我在钢琴课时要求妳坐在外面，但妳并没有那么容易让步。妳坚持妳有权利旁听我的课，因为是妳付的钱和开车载我来的。我试图用各种的论点和威胁来反驳妳 - 那就是钱是爸爸付的因为他才是那个在上班的人，我一到十六岁就会马上去拿到驾照自己开车来上课，等等。我们的关系沦落到了我们要不断争取谁拥有更多决定权的地步。现在回头看，我不知道为什么赢得这场争战对我来说是这么重要。也许是内在的骄傲，或者是倾向于根据美国理想塑造自己的生活，独立自主，可以自由去做任何我想做的事情。

最后，妳还是让我放弃了滑冰。但是到了那时候，我们已不再有一个能够良好沟通的关系。我仍然对我似乎是被迫继续滑冰的事实感到不满。妳继续提起妳如何牺牲了这么多，但却从来没有得到任何回报。它使我生气，但更重要的是，它导致了一种潜在的内疚感，到今天仍然是我们关系中的障碍。

妈妈，最近妳打电话给我，跟我说到妳要和妳的合唱团一起唱歌的音乐会。我们的谈话让我回想起妳如何告诉我，当妳年轻的时候，妳想成为一个歌手或舞者。当时，妳的父母没有钱来支援妳，而妳必须花时间照顾妳的祖母和弟弟。后来，妳去上大学，遇到了爸爸。他最终在美国找到了一份工作，在当时是一个很难得的机会。妳决定和他一起走。不久之后，妳怀孕了，然后我出生了。只有在我去上大学之后，妳才终于能够做妳想要的 - 唱歌和跳舞。

妳经常提到给我妳自己从来没有过的机会。我不禁想到，这就是为什么即使我们并不总是有钱可负担它，妳还是想要让我有机会尝试各种不同的活动。也许妳想要——以一种妳没有机会去做的方式——看到我成功。也许是为了帮助我实现美国梦，尽一切可能来确保我在美国过上美好的生活。

不管妳的道理如何，我只是想说，我开始感激妳给我的所有���会。我现在意识到，我对妳的一些怨恨，尤其是在我高中的时期，可能是被误导了。我现在感到幸运的是我有开始了这么多不同的活动，这些活动给了我在很多领域的良好基础——音乐，舞蹈，田径，中文等等。所以，谢谢妳妈妈，作为我能有今天的我背后的动力。我爱妳，即使我可能永远无法当妳的面告诉妳。

[ltop]

1.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have grappled with insecurity from my very first memories of being sent to piano lessons, of getting carefully selected toys geared towards education, of practicing math years ahead of my peers. I know now that, from the very beginning, you both had the best intentions - this is not a letter lamenting my wasted youth, nor is it one complaining about the way you raised me. In fact, I’m not sure I’d have it any other way - it has made me who I am. I’m rather grateful you gave me your all, and I truly appreciate that you had my best interests in mind.

But as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. No, this is about the unintended consequences of good will, because without understanding we cannot have open dialogue and without open dialogue we cannot grow as people.

I remember years of bringing home tests to constant criticism and discouragement. No missing point was too small to be harped on, no imperfection unexamined. When I did well, it was always “don’t compare yourself to others”, but when I did poorly it was always “look at how well others are doing”. And it worked, to an extent - I grew up with the sharpest mind in my school district, a pride in my intellect, and a diligent work ethic that carried me through high school and college.

But I also grew up alone. I had very few friends, and even fewer real friends - I spent the vast majority of my time with myself and my books, delving into fantasy worlds because it was easier than living my own life. And without that support network I grew up with a deeply ingrained belief that I would never be good enough. I grew up measuring my self-esteem solely based on my academic success. I grew up with a deep-seated insecurity that I was inadequate and weak, ugly and unwanted. This is, of course, fairly irrational - I was average looking, athletic enough to be a sports captain, and intelligent enough to make it to an Ivy League. But that didn’t really matter, you see, because my psych and unconscious mind would react instinctively when I felt most vulnerable - when I was dating my first girlfriend, for example, and my insecurity drove away one of the few meaningful connections I had formed with people at that point.

Do you know how long it took for me to really believe that you were proud of me? My first memory of you saying it meaningfully was shortly after my 23rd birthday.

I cried.

At the end of the day, things have turned out fine. I’m still working on it, to be honest...I’m still scared sometimes to assert myself, to believe that I can be successful and happy and wanted. I’ve learned to swallow these feelings and hide them behind the iron walls of my mind in dark little corners, and they doesn’t come out as much anymore. But they’re still there, even if just a little - I’m just better at controlling it now.

I don’t blame you - there’s no way you could have foreseen this, after all. I just want you to understand why I do what I do. Why sometimes I will seemingly go out of my way to pay for people’s meals - because some part of me believes that if I can just be useful in some way then maybe they’ll like me. Why sometimes I hide from the world in my room, shut the door, and order seamless - because some part of me is terrified of trusting others with who I am, because it believes that if they really knew who I was then they wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. Why I’m still driven to be “successful”, even after all these years - because I want to be able to make you guys proud, because I don’t think I have yet. Because I don’t feel in my bones that I am enough.

This is pretty extreme of course, and isn’t how I always feel - but it sure is how I feel some of the time. And maybe that’s okay - it’s a tradeoff for all the good things you’ve given me, and there’s no such thing as power without a price.

But you also didn’t raise me to be a quitter. And so I’ll keep working on my insecurities step by step, and gradually I’ll work up the courage to dig out everything from the little dark corners of my brain. Just keep in mind that it might take a while.

親愛的媽媽爸爸，

我一直掙扎於一些事情的最初記憶所帶來的不安全感: 被送去上鋼琴課, 獲得仔細挑選有教育性的玩具，練習超前同輩數年的數學。我現在知道，從一開始，你們都是為了我好 - 這封信不是在對我浪費掉的青春感到悲傷，也不是在抱怨你們養育我的方式。事實上，我不確定我是否會想用其他的方式 - 因爲它使我成為了現在的我。我很感謝你們給了我你們所有的一切，而且我真的很感激你們總是想到怎麼樣會是對我最好的。

但是正如常言所道，通���地獄的道路是由良善的意圖所鋪成。不，這是關於善意但卻無意間導致的後果，因為如果沒有互相的理解，我們無法有坦誠的對話，沒有坦誠的對話，我們就不能像一個人一樣成長。

我記得許多年以來，把考試卷帶回家時碰到的總是批評和令人喪氣。再小的疏漏都會被緊盯，沒有一個缺失是不會被檢視的。當我做得好的時候，總是“不要和別人比較”，但是當我做得不好的時候，總是“看別人做得多好”。這些事在一定程度上起了作用 - 我的成長伴隨的是擁有學區裡最敏銳的頭腦，對自我的聰明的自豪，以及在高中和大學時一直保持的勤奮工作倫理。

但我也是一個人孤獨地成長。我的朋友很少，真正的朋友甚至更少 - 我絕大多數的時間都花在自己和自已的書籍上，沉浸在幻想世界中，因為這比活出自己的生活更容易。沒有這樣一個朋友的支持網絡，我帶著一個自己永遠不夠好的根深蒂固的信念成長。在我的成長裏，只是根據我學業的成功來量度自己的自尊。我的成長帶著一個感到自己不足，虛弱，醜陋和沒人喜歡的深層不安全感。當然，這是非常不理性的 - 我有中等外貌，體能足以讓我成為一名運動隊長，智能足以讓我進入常春藤名校。但是，這並不重要，你看，因為當我感到最脆弱的時候，我的心靈和潛意識就會本能地反應 - 例如當我和我的第一個女朋友交往時，我的不安全感卻搞壞了這個我當時僅有的少數幾個之一和他人最有意義的聯結。

你們知道經過多久以後我才真的相信你們為我感到驕傲嗎？我記憶中第一次真的從你們所説的話中感覺到是在我23歲生日後不久。

我哭了。

到最後一切終究沒有出什麽問題。不過老實說，我現在還在努力，我有時候仍然害怕强調自己，不敢相信我能成功，快樂，被人需要。我已經學會了把這些感覺往内心吞，並將它們禁錮在心中一個黑暗的角落上。它們已不再這麽頻繁出現, 但是它們還是在，即使只是一點點 – 只是我現在能比較能控制它們。

我不怪你們 - 畢竟不可能你們可以事先預見到這一點。我只是想讓你明白為什麼我會這樣做那樣做，為什麼有時候我似乎會特意去替別人付餐費 - 因為我内心的一部分相信如果我可以用某種方式顯現自己是有用的，那麼也許他們會喜歡我。為什麼有時候我會躲在房間裡,遠離外面的世界，關上門，就只靠網路過活 - 因為我内心的某些部分對展示給別人真實的我非常恐懼，因為相信如果他們知道了真實的我，那麼他們就不會想跟我說話了。即使在這些年以後，為什麼我仍然會去追求“成功”：因為我想要能讓你們自豪，因為我不認為我已經做到，因為我沒有切確地感覺到我已足夠了，

當然這是非常極端的情形，我並不是隨時都會感到如此 - 但它確實是我在某些時候會感覺到的。也許這也還好 - 這是你們可以給我的所有美好事物的一個折衷取捨，況且所有的能力獲得都有它的代價。

但是你們也沒有把我養成一個容易半途而廢的人。所以我會一步步繼續努力處理我的不安全感，我將逐漸而勇敢地從我心裏的黑暗角落挖除一切。只是請瞭解，這可能會需要一些時間。

亲爱的妈妈爸爸，

我一直挣扎于一些事情的最初记忆所带来的不安全感: 被送去上钢琴课, 获得仔细挑选有教育性的玩具，练习超前同辈数年的数学。我现在知道，从一开始，你们都是为了我好 - 这封信不是在对我浪费掉的青春感到悲伤，也不是在抱怨你们养育我的方式。事实上，我不确定我是否会想用其他的方式 - 因为它使我成为了现在的我。我很感谢你们给了我你们所有的一切，而且我真的很感激你们总是想到怎么样会是对我最好的。

但是正如常言所道，通往地狱的道路是由良善的意图所铺成。不，这是关于善意但却无意间导致的后果，因为如果没有互相的理解，我们无法有坦诚的对话，没有坦诚的对话，我们就不能像一个人一样成长。

我记得许多年以来，把考试卷带回家时碰到的总是批评和令人丧气。再小的疏漏都会被紧盯，没有一个缺失是不会被检视的。当我做得好的时候，总是“不要和别人比较”，但是当我做得不好的时候，总是“看别人做得多好”。这些事在一定程度上起了作用 - 我的成长伴随的是拥有学区里最敏锐的头脑，对自我的聪明的自豪，以及在高中和大学时一直保持的勤奋工作伦理。

但我也是一个人孤独地成长。我的朋友很少，真正的朋友甚至更少 - 我绝大多数的时间都花在自己和自已的书籍上，沉浸在幻想世界中，因为这比活出自己的生活更容易。没有这样一个朋友的支持网络，我带着一个自己永远不够好的根深蒂固的信念成长。在我的成长里，只是根据我学业的成功来量度自己的自尊。我的成长带着一个感到自己不足，虚弱，丑陋和没人喜欢的深层不安全感。当然，这是非常不理性的 - 我有中等外貌，体能足以让我成为一名运动队长，智能足以让我进入常春藤名校。但是，这并不重要，你看，因为当我感到最脆弱的时候，我的心灵和潜意识就会本能地反应- 例如当我和我的第一个女朋友交往时，我的不安全感却搞坏了这个我当时仅有的少数几个之一和他人最有意义的联结。

你们知道经过多久以后我才真的相信你们为我感到骄傲吗？我记忆中第一次真的从你们所说的话中感觉到是在我23岁生日后不久。

我哭了。

到最后一切终究没有出什么问题。不过老实说，我现在还在努力，我有时候仍然害怕强调自己，不敢相信我能成功，快乐，被人需要。我已经学会了把这些感觉往内心吞，并将它们禁锢在心中一个黑暗的角落上。它们已不再这么频繁出现, 但是它们还是在，即使只是一点点 – 只是我现在能比较能控制它们。

我不怪你们 - 毕竟不可能你们可以事先预见到这一点。我只是想让你明白为什么我会这样做那样做，为什么有时候我似乎会特意去替别人付餐费- 因为我内心的一部分相信如果我可以用某种方式显现自己是有用的，那么也许他们会喜欢我。为什么有时候我会躲在房间里,远离外面的世界，关上门，就只靠网路过活- 因为我内心的某些部分对展示给别人真实的我非常恐惧，因为相信如果他们知道了真实的我，那么他们就不会想跟我说话了。即使在这些年以后，为什么我仍然会去追求“成功”：因为我想要能让你们自豪，因为我不认为我已经做到，因为我没有切确地感觉到我已足够了，

当然这是非常极端的情形，我并不是随时都会感到如此 - 但它确实是我在某些时候会感觉到的。也许这也还好 - 这是你们可以给我的所有美好事物的一个折衷取舍，况且所有的能力获得都有它的代价。

但是你们也没有把我养成一个容易半途而废的人。所以我会一步步继续努力处理我的不安全感，我将逐渐而勇敢地从我心里的黑暗角落挖除一切。只是请了解，这可能会需要一些时间。