感恩節(jié)的米飯

Until four years ago， when cancer took my grandma， the Chinese side of my family， my dads side， spent every Thanksgiving at her house. It was always warm， heated by the oven and stove， which grandma usually had running since morning. Our family is large， but the feast she prepared was always much larger. She cooked pies， meats， vegetables， and stuffing， which however delicious， were not my main course. My sister， my cousins and I， we came for grandmas rice and gravy.

And thats what comes to mind when I think about Thanksgiving—not pilgrims or gratitude， or pumpkin pie. My image of Thanksgiving consists of grandmas eleven grandchildren pouring turkey gravy over mountains of steamed white rice.

I believe in rice and gravy because I am rice and gravy. Im half Asian， half Anglo and completely American.

My generation learned in school that culture was something to celebrate and something necessarily foreign. Nobody ever explained to me that culture is not a set of exotic garments and foods， but something everyone has.

So I used to mourn what I saw as the loss of my Chinese heritage. Grandma never taught my dad to speak Cantonese； our holidays were the American ones； and we ate our family dinners with forks.

See， my grandmas generation wasnt taught that diversity was valuable. Her parents came to this country at a time when the central focus of American immigration policy was keeping the Chinese out. Discriminatory laws turned them into illegal immigrants. They used fake papers and adopted a fake family name in order to come here.

Until 1943， the United States would not allow Asians to become naturalized citizens. Many parts of Phoenix， where my grandma grew up and where I was raised， were designated off-limits to Chinese people before World War II. And interracial marriage remained illegal in Arizona until my dad was a teenager. Needless to say， my grandma was encouraged to downplay， not preserve her Chinese culture.

Which is why Ive come to be proud of my mixed identity. My very existence is a mark of progress and a symbol of my country—a collage of people with roots all over the planet， who， though not without strife， form something new and strong together.

The now-common phrase “l(fā)ong time no see” came from the literal translation of a Chinese expression into English. To me， rice and gravy is a similar type of translation. Its a delightful piece of culture that arises only at that point where immigrants braid their past into the American story. And thats what my family celebrates with rice and gravy for Thanksgiving.

四年前，癌癥帶走了我的祖母；在此之前，我家族中國血統(tǒng)的一邊，也就是我爸爸的那邊，每年都會(huì)在祖母家里過感恩節(jié)。那一天，祖母家里總會(huì)被爐灶烘得暖洋洋的，因?yàn)樽婺竿ǔＲ淮笤缇烷_了爐火燒煮個(gè)不停。我們的家族龐大，但祖母準(zhǔn)備的宴席卻總是更加盛大。她會(huì)烹制各種派、肉類、蔬菜和釀制菜式——這些菜肴都可口美味，但都不是我的主菜。我姐姐、表親和我都是沖著祖母的米飯和肉湯來的。

那就是當(dāng)我想起感恩節(jié)時(shí)腦海中呈現(xiàn)的一切——無關(guān)清教徒、感恩或者南瓜派。我的感恩節(jié)記憶包含了祖母的11個(gè)孫子將火雞湯澆灑在小山丘似的白米蒸飯時(shí)的情景。

我信奉米飯和肉湯，因?yàn)槲揖褪敲罪埡腿鉁?。我有一半的亞洲血統(tǒng)，一半的英國血統(tǒng)，但完全是個(gè)美國人。

我這一代在學(xué)校里學(xué)到的是，文化是一些值得頌揚(yáng)且須是外來的事物。從來沒有人跟我解釋說，文化并不是異國服飾和食品，而是人人都擁有的東西。

因此，過去我會(huì)把一些事情看作是中國傳統(tǒng)的缺失，而為之悲傷。祖母從沒教我爸爸說粵語；我們過的節(jié)日都是美國的節(jié)日；我們用叉子吃晚飯。

瞧，我祖母那一代并沒有人教育他們差異性彌足珍貴。在她父母涉足這個(gè)國家的時(shí)代，美國移民政策的中心點(diǎn)是排華。歧視性的法律將他們定性為非法移民。為了進(jìn)入美國，他們使用了虛假文件并且換了虛假的姓氏。

在1943年以前，美國不允許亞洲人加入美國國籍。二戰(zhàn)之前，在我祖母及我成長的鳳凰城的許多地方，華人都是禁止進(jìn)入的。在我父親十多歲前，跨種族婚姻在亞利桑那州依然不合法。所以不用說，人們會(huì)勸說我祖母掩飾、舍棄中國傳統(tǒng)。

正是出于這些原因，我對自己混血的身份深感自豪。我的存在是這個(gè)國家進(jìn)步的標(biāo)志與象征——根自全球的各色人種，雖然歷經(jīng)紛爭沖突，共同組合出強(qiáng)大的新族群。

如今的流行短語“l(fā)ong time no see”（好久沒見）源自一句中文的英語字面直譯。對我而言，米飯和肉湯也是一種相似的翻譯。這是一種新文化的可喜一面，這種文化唯有當(dāng)外來移民將他們的過去融入到美國故事才會(huì)產(chǎn)生。而那就是我的家族在感恩節(jié)用米飯和肉湯來頌揚(yáng)的東西。