Crossed Paths

Crossed Paths

The crowds were more than they imagined. Everywhere they lookedpeople crowded together waiting to enter the museum. Bellah ran quickly to join them, turned around and shouted, “Come on! Hurry up mom and dad! We’ll have to wait forever inside if we don’t get in line!” They had been talking about this family vacation for years. Her parents had been planning for her 16th birthday for some time now. They had surprised their daughter with this family vacation to see first-hand where so many Chinese entered the country. She had much in common with these immigrants, being born in China and now living as a Chinese American with her adoptive parents. Ever since the day Bellah had read a book about Asian immigration, she had wanted to travel to San Francisco to see Angel Island herself. This was the perfect time to come. It was the 100th anniversary of the western immigration port of Angel Island.

Bellah made her way through the crowds and purchased her ticket. She held on to her ticket for a moment and pondered what she was about to see. She had read of the struggles many Chinese experienced on their journey the “Land of Opportunity.” Her thoughts flashed to her own journey to America. She too had been afforded many opportunities here she would not have received back in China. Maybe this vacation was going to be one of self discovery, and less of relaxation. Once inside the museum she looked in amazement at all the photographs and artifacts on display. It was refreshing to see so many people who looked similar to her. Being born in China and growing up in America, she hadn’t always been surrounded by familiar faces. She felt a sense of belonging as she approached the first display.

Between 1910 and 1940 almost 100,000 Chinese immigrated to the United States. After a three week journey across the Pacific OceanAsian Immigrants were greeted by the sight of Angel Island.

Bellah read the informational plaque below the picture and wondered what their first impression of America was after their long journey. They had sacrificed so much to get to America. They had left family members, friends, and a familiar way of life. Were the immigrants received with open arms once they reached America? She moved to the next display to read on.

The interrogation process was a frightening event for the immigrants. The questions were detailed and irrelevant. The questions were designed to confuse and entrap the detainees.

“Why were they treated that way?” She thought. After leaving their homeland and the long journey here, what did the Chinese think of their experiences? Bellah was torn. Her thought flashed back to an account she had read of a Chinese woman’s marriage being questioned to see of it was legitimate. She had answered a minor question different than her husband and the officials were alarmed and were determining if she should be sent back. When she had read that, she didn’t think much about it, thinking it was an exception to what normally happened. Now she realized, this was how all Asian immigrants were treated. She wanted to walk to the next display to try and gain some understanding of the reasons the U.S. had for the immigration regulations. But then again, she found herself drawn to the picture of the young boy being interrogated by the American men.

As a result of the interrogation process, reminders of the immigrants stay on Angel Island were written on the barrack walls. Poems were penciled, carved or brush painted on the walls to express their anger and frustrations over theirtreatment.

Bellah ran her fingers over the poster sized photo of the poem. The photo was of a poem scratched into the block wall in the barracks of Angel Island. “What did it say?” “What emotions were the immigrants feeling when they wrote this poem?” “What happened to the author of this poem?” All these thoughts were running through her mind. She too had found comfort in writing to express her feelings of her own journey. Writing allowed her to talk freely about her own feelings of being torn between two countries. Where did she belong? Is that how these immigrants felt? They left their homeland, yet America wasn’t making it any easier to enter this country. Where did they belong?

She found herself moving quickly to the next photo to see what happened to these immigrants who belonged nowhere. She approached the plaque with anticipation, hoping to read of the many successes Asian immigrants experienced in the United States, if they were allowed in at all.

Chinese immigrants in the 19th century worked as laborers, particularly on the transcontinental railroad, and the mining industry, and suffered racial discrimination. While employers were eager to get this new and cheap labor, the ordinary white public was stirred to anger by the presence of this “yellow peril.”

How could this be?” She thought. My parents told me I could have a better life here in America. I would have more opportunities for schooling which would prepare me for a successful career as an adult. Is this what Americans still thought of Asian immigrants? Was I still viewed as an unwanted person in this country? She paused and realized there was nothing informing her about those immigrants who were not let into the country. She had read of people not passing the interviews and being sent back to their native country. Were they better off going home than experiencing this discrimination? Life in many of their homelands was hard and limited, but at least they felt like they belonged there. Bellah reflected on a memory from when she was younger of someone in the grocery store asking her parents why they chose to adopt from China, rather than taking care of the needy children here in America. Did elements of this early hatred still remain today?

The Chinese Exclusion Act was the only U.S. law ever to prevent immigration and naturalization on the basis of race. These laws not only prevented new immigration but also brought additional suffering as they prevented the reunion of the families of thousands of Chinese men already living in the U.S. that had left China without their wives and children; because of additional laws, Chinese men from marrying white women.

She walked slowly to the next photo. While she walked her thoughts were about what life must have been like for those men all those years here in America without their family. Her thoughts were of her own birth parents. She could relate to those men. She too was separated from her Chinese family. The pain those families experienced by not being together was a familiar pain to her. Like these immigrant men, her birth parents had placed her for adoption in hopes of a better life. Was the separation from their family worth the money they sent back to their homeland? Could the money and possessions take the place of a husband and father? Nothing could take the place of her American “forever family”; but what a sense of wholeness she could feel to just get a glimpse of her birth parents. She loved her life in America, but a reoccurring thought of what life in China would have been like repeats over and over. A tear came to her eye, how she longed to have a chance to meet them. She knew that wasn’t possible. She had created an idealized mental image of her birth parents. Times like this she held on to that image and held strong to that creation. Was it time to finally accept this image as being her one last connection to her past?

The Chinese found refuge and shelter in the Chinatowns of large cities.

Community; isn’t that what we are all looking for in life? A place where we feel we belong and are appreciated for who we are. Is it possible to create your own community? The Chinese immigrants created their own community here in America. Is it possible for an adopted child to do the same? She knew she was loved and wanted, but the nagging feeling of needing familiarity when at school or with her friends played over and over in her mind. The struggles these early immigrants endured to diversify this country laid the foundation for international adoption years later to be more widely accepted. Museums are thought of as reflecting on history, things that are old. How could all this “old” have had such an impact on her, something so new? Maybe her life here wasn’t about finding how to live as an American, but rather a blended life of the old and new. She could see her life being composed of immigrants past and of current day adoptions. Together these two paths are creating a strong, positive presence of Chinese here in America.

Her parents caught up with her and asked if she was enjoying the exhibits so far. “I have always had so many questions about who I am and how I fit in to our community.” Bellah replied. She continued, “So much struggling has happened by so many individuals to bring everyone together. It’s through this struggling we can all be united.”

A sense of peace came over them as they walked on. They represented what America was all about; a modern blended family enjoying the freedoms of the country.

Authors Note

The story above is a fictional account of a family trip. The information presented about Asian immigration and the experiences on Angel Island are accurate. The story depicts my wife and me in the future with our adopted Chinese daughter. While we have not traveled yet to be matched with a child, we have a strong connection to the Asian culture. This story was inspired by the idea of my future child finding a sense of belonging while physically looking different than her parents, and the impact immigration has had on our country. I hope to add on to this story one day with factual information of my own child.

(questioning photo)

(immigration photo)

(poem photo)

(worker photo)

(document photo)

(Chinatown photo)