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Excerpt:
At Vassar, Keng faced new and different challenges surrounding her identity as Asian-American. “Back at home, I was made fun of. I stuck out, but I was also special. I was a novelty. I was different and special,” Keng explains. “At Vassar, I wasn’t special anymore. They have a whole association for Asians? There’s more than me? It was uncomfortable, awkward.”
Natalie at HS graduation, Smyrna GA. Next stop: Vassar College, NY!
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How I Feel About Being Old
by Edward Keng
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I still use four letter words, but in a different context. When I was younger, I asked myself, “Do I NEED it?” before buying something. Now I only ask, “Do I WANT it?” I used to remind myself, “It is time to go to WORK,” but now I say, “It is time to go PLAY!”
So, to answer my daughter’s question, I don’t mind being old. It has set me free. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste my time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what would have been. And I shall eat chocolate mint ice cream and potato chips for dinner if I feel like it!
Natalie Keng (center) and her sisters in Smyrna, Georgia
My parents moved to Atlanta for graduate school in the 1960’s–pre-Olympics, pre-Superbowl, pre-Asian markets, pre-pretty-much-anything. Believe it or not, I was the only Asian kid in school. Grocery stores didn’t sell soy sauce and if you wanted a wok or cleaver, you had to bring it over from Asia. My mother, Margaret Keng, was the original Panda Express. Margaret told friends, “I worked full-time as a school teacher, had three kids, and ran a restaurant. Who has time to make dumplings!” Edward Keng, my father, lived in Little Five Points back in 1961 and was one of the early Chinese graduates from Georgia Tech. “You could fit all the Asian students in a single classroom!” He liked Johnny Cash tunes and hamburgers.
My childhood years were marked by a constant juxtaposition of cultures and customs, from eggrolls and sweet tea to Taoism and Dow Jones. Amazingly, my parents navigated and helped us find balance between these worlds and in ourselves.
Growing up as the only Asian kid in school was a mixed bag. Back in the 80’s, looking Asian was not desirable or trendy. Eating rice, tofu and drinking green tea were not common; it was “weird.” In public, we endured stares and name-calling as “chinks.” After hearing I was from Atlanta, people would respond, “Where are you REALLY from?” To try to fit in, I stopped speaking Chinese, wore eyeliner to make my eyes look bigger and permed my straight-as-an arrow hair. I didn’t succeed at being all-American; I did end up looking like a Chinese cocker spaniel!
Now, I am excited that “who we are”—the new Asian American Southerner–is not only socially acceptable but fashion forward. Oh, I wish I hadn’t given away those Chinese tops from grandma. Writing and teaching about food has opened the door to my multicultural, Eastern, Western and Southern heritage. Instead of being embarrassed, now I speak Chinese as much as possible and enjoy sharing my background and learning about more cultures. My looks or interests haven’t changed much since high school. What changed was inside – more confidence, more passion and acceptance – for who I was.
