The Middle Way: It takes everything.

Note: This was written as part of a multi-parter where I try to touch on my relationship with EA and what the community means to me. My relationship with my family is a unique personal experience and does not reflect other Asian/traditional dynamic dynamics.

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Recently, a friend posted this tweet, and I’ve been unable to get it out of my mind.

Visa ✈️ NYC (Feb22–Mar13) @visakanv

It takes *everything* to learn to love in a way that you weren’t taught

One of my core memories is when my laptop crashed in my final year at university. I was desperate to borrow a laptop from anyone to finish my assignments and continue working on a virtual event. My mother immediately went to the closest Harvey Norman and bought me a new laptop. I remember trying to dissuade her, that I could work off of school computers and that my friends had spare laptops. It was the start of the month, and our family only had $6000 to live on. This amount was our entire monthly income and savings combined, and would have to pay for loan payments, bills, and mortgages.

There were many instances like this where I was explicitly reminded that my parents didn’t have much. And what little they had, they unhesitatingly gave to me. 

I knew that my childhood wasn’t the best, but I was genuinely content due to the deep belief that my parents tried their hardest to love me in the way they knew best. They, too, having come from low-income and abusive households, are learning to love in a way they were never taught. 

2022 changed everything. 

Before that, all I aspired to in life was the stability of an iron rice bowl and to get my government-subsidised housing at 35. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have dreams of working in non-profits, doing a master's, or travelling the world. However, these were things that my lower-income family simply could not afford. There were legal and social expectations of filial piety that I felt obligated to fulfil.

However, coming to London, I realised what I thought was the norm was straight-up emotional manipulation and blackmail, bordering on abuse. The people I met in EA taught me so much. I learnt that the Asian-sizing-4XL body I hated so much was meant to be cherished and loved. I learnt that it was possible to love your job and not just suck it up. I learnt that compliments wouldn’t make me hubristic but would help me grow and strengthen me. I learnt that I’d been too hard on myself. I learnt that I didn’t need to be a people-pleaser or compress my needs to be loved. I learnt what the world beyond my bubble looked like, and I loved it. 

I found new homes with people in the EA community.

I found a home in an empty Switzerland apartment, grumbling over boys and slowly savouring our overpriced Burger King meal. My forgotten laptop precariously balanced on the only chair in the house.

I found a home in the Bay, a big sister I wanted but never had, giggling and explaining the nuances of teen fanfiction to AI researchers.

I found a home in my own bedroom, new friends sitting on my old bed, realising that we’re not really strangers.

I found a home in Prague Fall Season’s CFAR Workshop, three of us curled up in the Green Room playing Askhole.

I found a home in Berlin, sitting on the dusty carpet and baring my soul to a man I was slowly falling in love with.

I found a home in EAGxIndia, riveting conversations on beautiful Asian festivals, delicate rangolis and offerings to Lakshmi while kites flew in the Jaipur sky.

I found a home in myself, discovering resilience and independence that I’d never known. It looked like daily walks around the Edgbaston Reservoir, smelled like fresh flowers in my Oakland Airbnb, tasted like home cooking, vegan for the first time, and felt like this fidgety, feverish excitement on every flight from Changi Airport.

2022 changed everything.

I didn’t realise that this meant losing my first home. The moments I once saw as my parents trying their best to love and protect me were now constricting, like a boa slowly wrapping at my throat. 

“Don’t dress like that. We are Chinese.”

“Don’t tell anyone about your partner. The neighbours are gossiping about you being cheated by a foreigner.”

“Your dad had a breakdown. Don’t you know everyone is saying that you will abandon us? We are losing our only daughter.”

“One day, one of us will be dying in a hospital, and you won’t be able to make it back to catch our final breaths.”

“To love is to be by someone’s side.”

2022 changed everything.

Learning to love in a way I wasn’t taught is taking everything, every ounce of my empathy, compassion, and patience.

I watch as my Chinese-speaking parents struggle to adapt to the changing world without me by their side. I see my dad crying alone in his room at night every time a shooting, a hate crime, or a plane crash is shown on a screen. I see my mom’s eyesight deteriorating rapidly with every year, a once avid reader now confined to audiobooks that take her hours to find on Youtube.

I take deep breaths as I realise that the collective fears and trauma of the generations before me are now tying a noose around my dreams. A 10-page T&C now accompanies the unconditional love I once thought I knew. (Fine print: once they’re dead, you’ll regret this for life.)

I feel stretched as I’m pulled in two directions - caught between generations, caught between two worlds. I don’t have the answers or a solution. I can only hope to find a middle way, with unconditional love for them and myself.

It takes everything to learn to love in a way you weren’t taught.