Blind Side

Blind Side is a remarkable film, and I was stunned by some of the underlying themes. As usual, my pensive side got the best of me, and the brilliant movie really got me thinking.

At the young age of 23, Michael Oher, since 2009 signed to the Ravens in the NFL was once mistreated and looked down on in a high-class, Anglo-Saxon, Southern community. As I watched the film indicate some prejudices that still remain to this day, these issues shocked me as they occurred merely 5-6 years ago. Indeed, racism remains an issue to this day, but it still shocks me that there are still communities with such extreme prejudices and stereotypes towards others of a different color. Indeed, being slightly lighter on the "color" spectrum and further up north has indeed blessed me without such painful experiences, but when I think back on it now, I think racism still happens in some form around us. Granted, I have never been called something as demeaning as "chink," but "that short Asian girl" can sometimes hit a nerve when you want to be seen as more than that. Growing up in the Northwest was indeed a blessing, as I did not face many racist notions from the community, but indeed, I think I stuck out like a sore thumb back in preschool, being 1 of only 2 Chinese girls. I think as children, we are not aware of this concept of "race" or "color." It is a social construct that is drilled into us through our education. Whether it is a conscious action or unconscious on our government's part (such as surveys and censuses), in some ways, being in such a diverse society as America can have its ups and downs.

Diversity is something we emphasize as a nation, but at the same time, because of it, we often draw lines of division to specify what that diversity is. I recall commercials at a young age where they flashed through people of different races saying "I am American." While it may be heartwarming, this is often not the case. In no way am I perceived as the "true" American. Even though I am as American as you can get, born, raised, educated in America, I will always never be purely identified as such. I will always have an attachment to the title, a hyphenation as American-Chinese or Chinese-American, whichever you will. And yes, while I find immense pride in being Chinese by ethnicity, my nationality is indeed American, but I will never be recognized that way, whether by my own government or by others. It is a frustrating paradox. I do not think that the typical WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) faces this issue. They never have to identify themselves as, "I am American-British-Irish-Native American-Russian-German" or vice versa. They simply say "I am American," and as a global society, we have accepted that. Sometimes I just find it a painful realization.

Kamla today had an awkward question from a taxi driver, saying "If the US and China were to go to war, which side would you pick?" I'll give her props for having the guts to answer this can of worms honestly, as I typically avoid these questions with a simple "It's too complicated." No, instead, she said, "I'd pick America, because I was raised there and identify with them more." However, interestingly enough, the driver said, "But, you know deep down inside,you're really Chinese right?" Sometimes it's more a statement than a question, but it's frustrating. Could I ever truly break into this market or this society? Would they trust me more simply because I am Chinese by descent? Or would I be seen as a potential threat, never truly able to discern where my loyalties lie? It is indeed a complicated dilemma and somewhat why I am beginning to shy away from the idea of a permanent vocation in mainland China.

Anyhow, back to the movie Blind Side. As my eyes teared up at this one particularly emotional scene, I realized how much I take for granted. Michael Oher's later adoptive mother had brought him into her home and decided to give him a guest room to permanently stay in. As she lists off all the things that are now his and that he can use, she stops and smiles at his amazement. "What, you've never had your own room before?" In a sobering moment, Michael replies, "No, I've never had my own bed before." As her eyes began to tear, she quickly muttered, "Well, you do now," and briskly walked into the solace of her own room to cry. I found myself instantly crying with her as I realized how many things in life I took for granted. This is not some third world country we're talking about. This is modern America, a man who is merely 3 years my senior five years ago did not ever have his own bed. I realized in that moment that I am not only blessed, but have indulged too much in luxury. I expect to live in the lap of luxury, I expect comfort, and yet, some people can barely get by. Granted, I doubt that this will instantaneously curb any of my luxurious tastes, but I will indeed reconsider my shopping habits and get back into being a better steward of my money. It's just been spend, spend, spend.

Lastly, the theme of family in the movie made me miss my own family deeply. I miss the family dynamics that seems so lacking here in China. Since many family structures have a reversed focus, with 2 generations of people focusing all their attention on the only child, I miss a family that is willing to give up so much for their fellow brother, sister, mother, or father. At the same time, I think I have come to understand a bit more about parenting. Michael Oher's birth mother was a cocaine addict, and although he was in the throes of it all, his mother would always tell him to close his eyes so that he would never see her use a needle or the bad things she was engaged in. I think that's what's amazing about any parent. While a "parent" is a loose term, I think no parent ever wants their child (no matter how emotionally distant) to get involved in the same wrongs or mistakes that they have done in the past. Now, I begin to become more grateful for all the things my parents have done. While it may be annoying at times to hear their nagging, I know that it comes from a good place, and that they are simply trying to get me to understand, help me avoid the mistakes of their own pasts. Of course, nothing teaches much like a lesson of experience, and I am and have always been a glutton for punishment, but I think I'm beginning to see that my parents know best. They are after all much older and much wiser than I am. The more experiences I have, the more I realize how little I know both about life and about the world. Therefore, if I were smart, I should definitely listen to the advice of the generation before me.