Hybrid Love

Suki

                                                                  Hybrid Love

              The War of Resistance against Japan is one of the most famous events in China that my grandparents experienced. I have been listening to their stories since I was a baby. I used to count how many beloved family members and friends they had lost, or how many times they were telling the same story. In addition, Japan’s aggression against China started much earlier than the Eight Nation Alliance in 1900, before the First World War. Therefore, my grandparents were taught that Japan is an evil country by their parents and grandparents. In other words, they are never going to see eye to eye with the Japanese. To their surprise, their one and only precious daughter, my mom, married a half evil blood gentleman- my dad. Miraculously, my grandparents raised me and love me more than anything. That was the beginning of my struggle as a Chinese person. I understand many Chinese citizens like my grandparents have emotional and unforgettable engraved memories that are hard to let go. Also, many of them told their next generation that Japan was public enemy NO.1. However, the war had brought too much sadness, so my grandparents wanted I grew up full of love and understanding from two cultures. Therefore, I was told that I should love and cherish what I have every day, which made me strong and considerate after I moved to the States.                                          

 

             My grandparents’ childhood was a disaster. They both grew up fleeing hunger and fear. Moreover, they saw dead bodies and destroyed buildings everywhere. My grandmother never had any toys to play with, and she did not know if she still had a chance to open her eyes once she fell asleep. People died because of diseases, bad weather, hunger, or murder. Every night when her mother said goodnight, she knew that might be the last time to see her mother, and she knew tomorrow they might need to play the “walk and hide” game for the whole day until they found a place to sleep. My grandfather is a posthumous child, his father left his pregnant wife to fight war and never came back. Grandfather was lucky because his hometown was one of the Japanese army headquarters, so it was less damaged. He could go to school, but at school everyone was forced to learn Japanese. Moreover, every kid needed to carry an information card which had the kid’s name, class, age, and blood type. Certainly, all of the students were forced to donate their blood to the Japanese soldiers. Sometimes, Japanese soldiers took few kids to do some tests in the laboratory, and no one returned. His teacher was killed because he tried to protect my grandfather and ten other kids not be taken to the lab. To earn a living, my great-grandmother cleaned Japanese soldier’s uniforms by hand even in the snowy nights. I cried with my grandpa when he talked about how his mother sobbed when she tried to remove blood from those uniforms. That might be her husband’s blood; this person may have killed her man. With years of all these terrible feelings and great-grandmother’s damaged fingers, by the time grandfather was thirteen, he decided to work in a factory as an apprentice, so he could help support the family.

             My father’s parents also suffered a lot because of the war, but no one talks about it at home. I guess it is a sensitive topic that is kind of taboo. My dad’s mother who I called obaasan, was found by his father’s family in a field, after Japan lost the war. Although they knew she was the daughter of Japanese military, they still decided to raise her as their daughter because they believed kids were innocent. When my obaasan knew how to speak Chinese, she told her stepbrother (my dad’s side grandpa) that she saw her military dad use bayonet killed himself because he felt ashamed to return to Japan, no matter how hard that she and her mom beg not to do it. Then her mom hugged her and said gomennasai (sorry), killed herself with a gun due to her despair. The house was a mess, everyone tried to pack and jump onto the truck. No one realized my obaasan was left behind. She ran with a stream of Chinese people, and did not know where to go until she fainted and was found. Soon she and her stepbrother got married, and eventually had four children. Obaasan became a nurse in a hospital, and worked very hard when she was young. She won the best nurse every year! She always says that she is so appreciative of everything, and she just wanted to work harder in order to pay back for what her dad had done. I asked her once how she dealt with people around her always saying the Japanese is evil since no one knows she is also evil. She did not say any word, and just smiled.

            In my case, it is a lot easier than in my obaasan’s, but sometimes I still feel a conflict inside. My parents’ marriage was not accepted due to my grandparents’ sad background, and it was well known in the whole neighborhood. In my parents’ thirty years of marriage, both sets of my grandparents only met twice. I often feel that something in me does not belong to either side. Because of the well known marriage, many of my kindergarten classmates knew that I was not one hundred percent Chinese. They made fun of me, derided me and called me “gouzazhong”, which means half breed. I used to cry, because no one played with me and I did not want to be different. My grandparents hate the Japanese who joined the war, but they always told me that obaasan is a good woman that I should love, which I really appreciate. They hate the fact that my mom could not marry a Chinese man, but they raised me kindly with all their love. The reason that they only met my father’s side twice is not because they hate my obaasan, but they feel embarrassed that they disagreed with the marriage in the very beginning. They believe it is better for me to spend more time with my grandparents on my father’s side, so they used to send me to abaasan’s house during summer vacation, which I also appreciate. When we moved to Macau, I hid the fact that I have a Japanese grandma, so nobody could make fun of me anymore. However, I knew that was not true, so I felt as an imposter all these years. Now I love who I am, and I forgive all the people who have hateful thoughts that used to surround me. Because of the war, I have two different cultures, and I understand both of them well. This is the biggest advantage as a foreigner living in the U.S. it helps me mingle with people from other countries easily. I never had any hard time to understand another culture. Afterwards, I married a Latino man who understands Chinese culture and is learning Mandarin.

I always believe that there is no right or wrong in history. Each side had its own stand and reason. I felt heart broken when my grandparents shared their stories with me, and I also felt sad when I thought about what my obaasan had seen when she was ten. War brings a lot of sadness to people, so I hope our lives on the earth will be peaceful. There are still many young haters in China; it is like the family feud. They break windows of Japanese cars on the streets and do not buy anything from Japan. Also, they would argue if anyone said that Japan is good. Whenever I see young people act like this, I feel sorry for them. I really wish they could be taught that there is no need to hate when they were young, and that they should stop wasting energy on things that have no significance to their lives. It was the epoch’s fault and the pain of human life’s progression. However, war also makes family closer than ever. Just like the way my grandparents raised me. Hundreds of broken-hearted stories had told, but clearly emphasized that whatever happened was already dead. I thank them for always telling me that no one knows what is going to happen tomorrow, so I cherish everything in my life. In my family, I always feel positive and joyful. I think that the past is the past, and Instead of getting stuck in historical resentments and bitterness, people need to move on and focus on the present.