Memoir

Boundary Street

Photo by Randall J. van der Woning

When I married a graduate student from central China, I saw a side of China most foreigners weren’t privy to in the 1990s. Spending frigid Chinese New Years in a small Chinese city with my in-laws, I went without indoor heat and only warmed up at night under an old electric blanket. I drank endless cups of hot green tea just to thaw my fingers during the day. I even ate dog—twice—to keep warm. My days in China also involved sitting in smoke-filled rooms where I was expected to quietly watch the men play cards. That got old quickly.

Susan - WeddingI moved back to the US in 1998, pregnant with my first child, and thought I had left China behind. But then with the birth of my son, I was thrown head first into man yue, the Chinese post-partum custom of staying indoors and not bathing for a month. I received three dozen raw eggs as a baby gift and ate fish head soup to revitalize my energy after childbirth. And then my in-laws moved in for a year to care for the baby, the only heir they counted. If I didn’t cover my baby’s belly button, all hell broke loose. I returned to American society during the day as the only breadwinner in my family, supporting the five of us on a $30,000 salary.

BOUNDARY STREET (work in progress) is a memoir of the five years I spent trying to assimilate to Chinese family life. I thought I could handle cultural differences like eating sea slugs and showering once a week in the winter to conserve hot water. But it wasn’t until I was married that I found myself reevaluating what I thought it meant to be married, have a family, and later to raise my child, even if it entailed leaving my Chinese family.

When I married a graduate student from central China, I saw a side of China most foreigners weren’t privy to in the 1990s. Spending frigid Chinese New Years in a small Chinese city with my in-laws, I went without indoor heat and only warmed up at night under an old electric blanket. I drank endless cups of hot green tea just to thaw my fingers during the day. I even ate dog—twice—to keep warm. My days in China also involved sitting in smoke-filled rooms where I was expected to quietly watch the men play cards. That got old quickly.I moved back to the US in 1998, pregnant with my first child, and thought I had left China behind. But then I with the birth of my son, I was thrown head first into man yue, the Chinese post-partum custom of staying indoors and not bathing for a month. I received three dozen raw eggs as a baby gift and ate fish head soup to revitalize my energy after childbirth. And then my in-laws moved in for a year to care for the baby, the only heir they counted. If I didn’t cover my baby’s belly button, all hell broke loose. I returned to American society during the day as the only breadwinner in my family, supporting the five of us on a $30,000 salary.

BOUNDARY STREET (work in progress) is a memoir of the five years I spent trying to assimilate to Chinese family life. I thought I could handle cultural differences like eating sea slugs and showering once a week in the winter to conserve hot water. But it wasn’t until I was married that I found myself reevaluating what I thought it meant to be married, have a family, and later to raise my child, even if it entailed leaving my Chinese family.