Subculture kid

Christmas was a huge thing growing up. Not for his family, but for Richard particularly. As a French citizen with Chinese origins, Richard remembers vividly craving for Christmas at the age of eight. Like most of his French peers, he was just growing up while constantly craving for new toys and different kinds of games. Whatever his friends had at home, Richard also had. Except for one thing.

And that was Christmas.

The moment described to me by Richard sounded very lonely. So lonely that his eight year old self still remembers until today at the age of twenty-six. Richard was rather happy that day because he had just spent a wonderful two weeks of winter vacations where he stayed at his home in Paris and just played his days away. No waking up early in the morning or writing assignments. Just a lot of sleep and a lot of play. Every child’s paradise.

And by the time break was over, Richard was still happy. He was about to go back to school and see all of his friends again. Hang out with them in the classroom or run around playing tag games in the school’s courtyard. For a split moment, he even forgot about the different school assignments that his teacher was going to make him do. Because on that particular day, Richard was happy to find his school friends.

Everything happened like the way he had imagined it to happen. He saw his friends and they were all super excited to see each other again after a two-week break. I remember how two weeks seemed like forever when I, too, was at that age. I remember even thinking that people in their late twenties were as old as dinosaurs.

I am now a dinosaur.

But during recess, an uncomfortable event happened: his friends started talking about the different cool presents that they received during Christmas. Some got board games, some got new books. Some even got bicycles! Santa Claus was very generous that year, I thought. Different sounds of surprises and excitements were uttered. And naturally, when Richard’s turn came, he didn’t have any cool presents from Santa Claus to share with his peers. So Richard just smiled and explained that, unlike his friends’ families, Richard’s family didn’t celebrate Christmas.

Richard knew, while growing up, that even though he, too, was French, there were many elements that separated his Frenchness from the majority of his white friends’ Frenchness. The list of these elements was endless, and, as life has it, it started with “Christmas”.

Richard never explicitly asked his parents for Santa Claus’ presents because, even as a child, he held an inner understanding that his family — and by extension, his culture— did not celebrate Christmas. Simultaneously, though, Richard also knew that he was French. Just a different type of French compared to the majority of his friends at school. The type of French who didn’t celebrate Christmas, for example. The type of French who celebrated Lunar New Year, instead of the New Year that everyone around him seemed to celebrate. The type of French who jumped around whenever he saw the “hóngbāo”— more visually and commonly known as “red envelope” in the Western world — because he knew that he was about to receive a lot of francs.

Enough francs to buy a whole week’s worth of lollipops. 

Richard recalled talking to his parents about his friends’ Christmas experiences that evening when he went home after school. Moments later, his parents performed the most Asian act of love towards their innocent child — a child who didn’t know yet that his superpower relied on these moments, on these differences. His parents gave him a “hóngbāo” with five francs as their Chinese Christmas gift to their French son.

The following year, Richard got the Christmas that he had always craved. The Christmas tree was set up in the house and the presents were wrapped. But still, he noticed that his Christmas was different from his white French friends. Their presents were gifted by Santa Claus, while his were simply given to him by his Mom and Dad. Richard knew it, despite his young age, because his parents would explicitly ask him what he wanted for Christmas.

I smiled and thought of how similar my parents were to Richard’s. Mine, too, never understood the concept of gifting thoughtful presents. And they, in turn, have always taught me that a thoughtful present is one that is explicitly requested by the receiver. I don’t think I can disagree and that’s probably the Asian side of me.

“You know what’s funny, though?” Richard asked me with a budding laugh that I can already detect in his voice. I shrugged and asked him to tell me what. 

“Since I always knew that Santa Claus wasn’t real, I wasn’t depressed like all of my other French friends when they found out,” he confessed, now laughing out loud for real. A laugh that I would characterize as both a nostalgic and an innocent one. As if words could be used to describe such sound.

Despite the fact that Richard was born and raised in Paris, the person that he has become today is only, and I quote, “40% French and 60% Chinese”. As if identity was that easily accessed and measured.

Richard explained to me his evolution of being — or more accurately, wanting to be— fully French when he was growing up and becoming the person that he is today. The balance has clearly shifted. I, of course, asked him what has caused the change and what has happened throughout the years.

He admitted that his Chinese culture is very prominent in his life, despite the fact that he was born and raise in the French capital. He spoke Chinese with his family members, so Chinese was always his mother tongue. He ate Chinese food at home and celebrated Chinese festivities. His family friends were mostly Chinese people. Most— if not all— of his friends today are just like Richard: French kids with Chinese origins. He explained how it was a stroke of (extreme) luck that he managed to have the group of friends that he has today because growing up, he just didn’t want to be that “Chinese kid who only hung out with other Chinese kids”. So he consciously only hung out with his white French friends.

What about the French kids who only hung out with the French kids? Did this thought ever consciously cross his mind? Probably not because the majority usually ruled the reality.

The majority creates the norms. And, naturally, the rest follows. 

“What shifted?” I asked him eagerly.

And he just told me, simply and plainly, how he met his Chinese-French friends through family connections and social events. And just like that, through conversations, he realized that life was actually super simple and that he was super easy to understand. All of a sudden, his relationships changed. He no longer had to explain why he ate around round tables and why he shared food with the rest of his family members. He didn’t have to explain why he was never allowed to sleep over at his friends’ place. He didn’t have to explain anymore. Nor did he have to prove anything anymore.

He could just finally be.

And that was a new and wonderful feeling for Richard.

“What separate you, then, from the Chinese people in China?” I asked him curiously without really knowing what to expect given my Vietnamese background and experiences.

His answer was simple, “I cook Cantonese fried rice with Knacki.”

And with that, he confessed to proudly belong to this new culture-creating generation. His culture, a subculture to both the French and the Chinese cultures, will one day be the norms.

And I believe in every single word he said.