Every year my family celebrates Thanksgiving. And while this may not seem like such a shocker, it is.
I recently asked my dad whether or not he had celebrated Thanksgiving when he first arrived in the United States. My earliest memories were of Thanksgiving with my older cousins and grandparents, but I also wondered if my father had celebrated this American holiday before me. The answer was no. He didn’t elaborate, but from what I already know about his experience as an 18-year-old immigrant who came with his parents, I can see why my family did not celebrate Thanksgiving.
Although my first Thanksgivings are hazy in my memories, I recognize that the way in which we celebrate has definitely changed over the years.
All of my cousins would gather at our house and the food that was available was distinctly Chinese. No mashed potatoes, no pumpkin pie, and certainly no turkey. Instead, we had yard-long beans and bok choy, and chicken and duck. Even the chicken and duck evolved over the years. They went from being ordered from restaurants to being fresh, cut, and served right there. And at 6 pm, or whenever the stores started to open, we would go out and start making full use of the Black Friday sales.
I remember having discussions in school about Thanksgiving and feeling confused as to why the foods served in my household never fit into the ones listed by my classmates. My teachers would always ask what our plans were for Thanksgiving and all the other kids would say they were visiting family from out of state or going on vacation. I was so jealous.
And so when the time inevitably came that we started introducing more American-style customs in our Thanksgiving, I was thrilled. In my first year of high school, Thanksgiving was held at my grandparents’ house. My cousins made mashed potatoes, bought a blueberry pie from the local Acme, and attempted to stuff a chicken. We also put on some football on the TV and despite the majority of us not caring about the game, it felt right. Our “bootleg Thanksgiving” still made me excited for the fact that I would finally experience the true Thanksgiving experience.
Turns out, no one really enjoyed the traditional Thanksgiving food. The mashed potatoes were not to our taste and the stuffed chicken was left uneaten while the rest of the Chinese dishes were completely gone. It was as though a bucket of ice was thrown on my head. This theoretically perfect and normal Thanksgiving didn’t live up to my expectations. And the next year, the stuffed chicken and mashed potatoes did not make a return.
I am thankful for the resilience and adaptability of my family and our culture. I am glad to have at least tried out the traditional Thanksgiving experience and realize that it is not for me, or my family. The thing with immigrant families in any country is that despite the need to feel like they need to adopt a new identity and celebrate the local traditions and holidays, they will try to preserve their culture through whatever means–which gives rise to cool blends of culture. I realize now that maybe those feelings stemmed from some type of internalized embarrassment over my culture, but I have grown and am thankful for that as well.
So here is to everyone’s personal growth this Thanksgiving! Stay warm!