Sarah Kwan answers The Tong
Q: How were you cared for when you were sick as a child? What was your experience of being sick as a child?
Alone, in bed, but to be honest most of the time I had my hands on my cheeks so I could convince my parents I had a fever. I didn’t loooove school. But when I did really get sick, I could always count on my older sis to warn me, “you better not get me sick, I have finals tomorrow.”
Q: Tell me about your grandmother's hands, how do you remember her using her hands?
They were soft and squishy, two fingers amputated to the first knuckle due to a juicing accident. My grandfather was sick with prostate cancer and her two fingers got sacrificed in the juicing regimen. Her hands were warm and soft, the skin on those two fingers was stretched so smooth, like two sausages, two headless worms.
Q: What smell reminds you most of being a child?
The hot steaming cement around the pool - I would lay my wet cheek on the scalding rocks, breathe deep. When my therapist asks me to find my peaceful place, that one never fails.
Q: How do you self-soothe, or find peace in the storm?
My lovey, which has taken many forms over the last 43 years. I let my cuticles get caught along the fabric. The tension and release has to mean something.
Q: What does showing up for you mean?
Mmm…I don’t know. I don’t feel like I like that question. I’m like a cat. Don’t get too close but sit right next to me.
Q: Are you proud of your parents?
Yes. That is a certainty I have always known, even when I have felt ashamed of them.
Q: Are they proud of you?
I think so. But I also don't think they're the type of parents who feel proud in the typical paternalistic way. I feel like being proud implies some ownerrship and I dont think they take ownership of our successes. They never brag. I also think that what they find pride in has changed over the years.
Q: Who is your best friend?
My imaginary friends. They are endlessly interesting and have been on this ride since day 1.
Q: Shoes on or off in the house?
Off!
Q: Who gets the best cut of meat at the dinner table?
There's really not a best cut of meat in a single T-bone steak, we were lucky if everyone got a decent bite. For some reason, we still think two New York Strips will feed our entire family of 7-10ppl. But in general, the best of anything goes to my mother. Then my father. Unless they are the ones giving. Then I think they want the best to go to us.
Q: How does your family respond to mistakes that you make?
Surprisingly. I mean, my siblings are always there to support and have always found the empathy. But my parents…it seems the bigger the mistake/failure and the more I have been afraid to share with them, the more they have been there for me. But we rarely dig in. We tip-toe around the finer details and are there in the bigger strokes.
Q: How is success celebrated in your family?
I don’t feel like we are very competitive within our family, which is really nice, nor do we take ownership for each others’ triumphs. Any success feels genuinely celebrated - usually with yet another family gathering.
Q: What is your Fatal flaw?
I refuse to pretend that relationships are more than they are.
Q: Favorite childhood dish?
I remember having a McDonald's Happy Meal once - but my sister says we actually had it every week. I think she’s wrong.
Q: Do you know how your parents met?
All I know is there were 5-spice duck wings involved, and consequently, a two-year dating hiatus!
Q: What is a term/phrase that only your family members understand?
Oh, so many.. endless quips in Mandarin that we don’t even hear ourselves repeating.
Q: Are there aspects of your upbringing that you don't want to pass along?
Shame as a source of motivation. The tendency to see the family unit as one enmeshed individual. The fear of vulnerable emotions. Suffering.
Q: Are there aspects of your upbringing that you are determined to pass along?
Internalization of Chinese identity. Fierce connection to matrilineal line. The ability to see beyond one’s own needs. Worlds conveyed in a flick of the eye. A place of belonging, a visceral sense that we belong to something. Celebration.