On Not Speaking Chinese

In Ien Ang's "On Not Speaking Chinese:Postmodern Ethnicity and the Politics of Diaspora", Ang finds herself on a one-day tour of China's "so-called New Economic Zone". Though the experience Ang writes of is specific to her life, the experience of belonging, or not, easily cuts across language and ethnicity. Reading Ang's exploration of identity and "double-consciousness had a visceral affect on me, more so than most of the other articles we've read. Ang's heritage is Indo-Chinese. Her family's experience of having fled China to Indonesia has helped to define her sense of place and belonging. Neither Indonesian, Chinese, or Western categorically speaking, Ang's experience seems one of dislocation. She is both embarrassed for her Chinese tour guide, and a bit hurt when Ang's Chinese"ness" goes unacknowledged by her. Ang's experience of "not speaking Chinese" is obviously different than mine, but the experience of belonging, or not, is one that I, among most others can relate to. Ang's article speaks to my experience as a "middle-class" welfare recipient. Knowing that I have millionaire grandparents helped me preserve some of amount of personal dignity, in dealings with asshole case-workers, welfare officers, disapproving bank tellers, or grocery store clerks who knew it was cheque day when..., or food bank workers when it wasn't. I could always tell myself that I was better than not only others on welfare, but better than the case workers making $30,000 a year, and the minimum wage earning women at the bank and grocery stores looking down on me, and feeling sorry for my kid. This feeling superiority cultivated out of necessity I'd argue, was always turned completely on its head at fancy family dinners, which frequently ended in yelling matches between myself and family members who'd make derogatory comments about "those people". Those people that scam the system, that have no pride, that won't work, that have more babies to get more money, that take taxi cabs to the food bank... Though not steeped in language per say, there has always been a uncomfortable double-consciousness at work for me. Being in university complicated this identity even more, with my program of choice making it all the more ironic. Similar to Ang's feelings of embarrassment and rejection, my experience of being on, and getting off welfare and being university educated, has made for equal parts guilt and cynicism. It's embarrassing for me on one level, to write about welfare using concepts such as diaspora and social stratification. I resent impressing people. There's no way hell though I prefer cashing my welfare cheque with lowered eyes. This struggle for identity really is the heart of Ang's "On Not Speaking Chinese".