We Are a Family Exported from China
by Kenneth Lam (he/him)
We are a family exported from China. Made in China
A label seen on our hand-me-down clothes. A gentle reminder.
Fathers and mothers worked in their take away shops.
Children lived upstairs, a better upbringing than picking crops.
No menu. No manual script on how things would be.
Adopt a name, Jessica, Daniel, maybe even Lee.
A pack lunch opens. “Ew, what’s that smell?”
Attention given from another unwanted show and tells.
So we laugh, we smile. Join in on the joke.
Our joke. My Joke. Are we the joke?
I mean, thats what TV showed us,
to be comedy for all those Western folk
We weren’t on the playgrounds that much
No time to climb and slide. Study hard, law abide,
Just push all your feelings aside…
Win another trophy, memorise. Work hard. Get that first prize.
But when we travel back home. Neither belonging here or there.
We’ll watch the tourists claim our girls—a secret affair.
Serve and submit, scratch the itch of his yellow fever
Colonise her body with I love you’s just to deceive her.
So I ask my brothers why have we been desexualised, feminized
Asked if we could even see out of our chinky eyes.
Our food, our style our language so frequently plagiarised.
Are my words not painted all over your skin? So why am I still being terrorised?
They Say—No fats, No femmes, No Asians or Blacks
I say—when did it become okay to feel so easily attacked?
So its only natural to question your desirability
When I look around and see no one really looks like me.
But things change, I know they can.
My dad asked if I know that woman, you know? Gemma Chan
I said yes, Dad, she's not a lawyer, accountant or doctor.
She’s worked hard, didn’t let all of this shit stop her.
So I’ll do what I did as a child, I’ll read and I’ll learn
Protect others, I'll watch all that trauma burn
like papers set alight in front of our ancestors’ urn
I’ll tell my brother’s and sister’s it’s finally going to be our turn.
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What are the sounds, smells, tastes of your childhood?
The ticking when you cross the streets of Hong Kong from the traffic lights. My mum screaming my name, my sister singing to become a singer when she grew up. The sound of customers under the floorboards above my parents’ Chinese restaurant.
What is the story behind your name?
Kenneth Lam - my mum wanted to call me Harry after Prince Harry she was obsessed with Diana.
Who taught you about your family history?
No one really, I just explored it myself when I picked up my camera and begun asking questions.
Do you have any practices or rituals that honour your ancestral lineage?
All of my photography
How did you learn who you are?
I asked myself those questions and developed a deeper relationship with myself.
What narratives or core beliefs do you have about your identity?
That I can develop and build my own identity as well as honour my identity built by my parents and culture.
Have you adopted ideas about yourself that you don’t actually agree with?
Many of course, but there is something we can all do, which is called re-rewriting narratives that we don’t agree with. The story you tell yourself is the story that will come true.
