A poem by Priscilla Sim 

 

I was born in Malaysia, where the sun always shines

And everyone smiles at you and the food is divine

And you can get a good meal for 50p

And it seems over there, the people are happy,

 

But my parents wanted a good education for me

So we all moved to London when I turned three

Years old, we came to the blistering cold

And as I stepped off the plane at Heathrow,

 

I said mummy, mummy, they have air conditioning outside!

That’s been a story repeated time after time.

And I was sent to nursery school and tried to fit in,

But none of the other kids spoke Mandarin,

 

And I cried everyday, because I couldn’t say

To the other kids in my class, that I wanted to play

With them, and learn how to join in their fun,

So I missed my homeland and I missed the sun,

 

But slowly and surely the language sank in

And I began to adapt to Westernisation,

And when my mother would ask me a question in Chinese

I replied in English, and my father was not pleased

 

At all about that, and couldn’t come to terms with the fact,

That the cherished culture and heritage

He’d struggled to nurture in me,

Was now being corrupted by this new foreign policy,

 

And how he tried to beat the English out of me,

My answering back, and my refusal to eat

Rice, instead I demanded white bread,

And fish and chips with mushy peas,

 

And roast dinners with Yorkshire pudding soaked in gravy

And creamy desserts and chocolate and cheese

And artificially flavoured beverages and those sweets

That used to cost a penny each, but now I think they are 5p,

 

Oh, those were the times I remember so fondly!

 

And my best friend was a girl called Nicola Demetri

Her mother was Welsh and her father Greek

But she never knew him, he walked out a week

After she was born and never came home

But she had a new step dad, Antonio from Rome

 

 

And I would go over and eat spaghetti bolognaise

I still savour the moment I had that very first taste,

And everything was magic and new to me

And my favourite things of all, were storybooks and TV,

 

And I soaked it all in, everything, I saw and heard and read,

All these impressions and influences saturating my little head,

And how my parents and I would fight, night after night,

I was rude and disrespectful, and of course always right,

 

Because they were just stupid, and didn’t know anything about anything,

We live in England now and this is a new beginning,

I’m not Chinese! And I’m not Malaysian!

I’m British. I think and feel Caucasian.

 

So I didn’t understand why, around about seven

Some boys in my class, up till I was eleven

And left that school, made fun of me,

They would jeer and laugh and point and tease,

 

Singing ching, chang, chong, Chinky, Japanesey!     

They thought it was funny, and I guess I was easy

To pick on because I didn’t know where I was from,

 I had no idea of the beauty of the culture, to which I belonged,

 

And I grew more ashamed and longed for blonde hair

So the girls would all like me, and the boys would all stare,

Because nobody ever fancied this skinny yellow Chinky

Back then it was different, being different wasn’t sexy,

 

Or cool like Lucy Lui, martial arts, and Manga cartoons

Those images weren’t around when I was being abused

In the playground by the kids I wanted to be like

And at home by my parents who seemed not to like

 

Me at all, constantly criticising and trying to break me down

And I felt set apart and excluded from the crowd

And I became shy and withdrawn, awkward and moody,

And I cried a lot and felt as if nobody knew me,

 

And that took me right up into my adolescent years

Where waiting for me there, were even more tears

Of frustration, confusion, being misunderstood,

Feeling ostracised and isolated, I didn’t feel good

 

At all, about myself, or my friends, or my family,

Or my life, or my dreams, or my lack of identity,

I wasn’t Black or White, and I wasn’t Chinese.

I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know who to please,

 

I felt like a foreigner in my own skin

And try as I might I couldn’t fit in

To any social grouping

So I learnt to stand alone, and how to do my own thing,

 

And I sat on the sidelines and watched and waited

For understanding of this life thing, which I found so overrated

But slowly as I began to see, I wrote uncontrollably

For here I felt safe, secure and accepted, by me

 

And I set out to travel, exploring other countries and cities

To learn about their ideals and realities

And as I recognised the distinctiveness of each part of the world

I understood how this diversity made each way of life special

 

And I became conscious that I like chopsticks and dim sum and won ton

And chicken feet and crispy duck and squid and tofu

And I like Chinese New Year and the festivals of the new moon

And I like my slit eyes and yellow skin and black hair

 

And returning to London, my eyes at last opened wide

For right here, all this multiplicity co-existed side by side

And I felt proud to be alien and disparate and colourful

Everyday I meet people so contrasting and wonderful

 

And as I observe the workings of this place which I inhabit

I begin to comprehend that I could actually have it

Any way I choose, I could merge, I could blend

Like a chameleon, into any situation, and find a friend

 

Just as I am. And I am London, as London itself,

Multi-ethnic, multi-cultural and an infinite wealth

Of assorted colours and mixtures and varieties

Traditions, customs and ranging social normalities,

 

And I slowly re-define the misfortune of my reality

And instead embrace the bewildering concept of my identity,

I love where I live, and I’m lucky, to be me,

My home, is London, and I am, Malaysian Chinese

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