The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(69)

“Like, I know my parents are trying to help me feel connected to my roots, but it just feels weird because they’re not connected. Like, I love them, and you can never tell them or anyone I said this, but . . . sometimes I feel like they’re a little racist. Don’t get me wrong, I know they mean well and it’s just misguided, but still. It’s super embarrassing. All the Chinese stuff they put everywhere feels forced, almost like I’m faking my heritage. It’s all just Chinese decorations and Chinese aesthetics. Sometimes I feel like that stuff is more for them than me. Meanwhile I don’t even really feel like I can claim being Chinese. And I feel guilty for feeling that way, like I’m throwing that part of myself away. But I also feel guilty for like, wishing I was more Chinese? If that makes sense. Because my parents are white. It’s shitty. They’ve done everything for me and I’m complaining.”

I never thought Bo would be jealous of me. I’m jealous of her all the time, because she can be herself openly without worrying about consequences. But I guess she feels that way about me, too.

“No, that makes a lot of sense,” I say. “I think it’s important to remember there’s no one right way to be Chinese. Just like there’s no right way to be queer or Catholic or anything. And I don’t think you’re being ungrateful. Just because your parents raised you doesn’t mean you owe them anything. That’s literally a parent’s responsibility. It’s okay to have conflicting feelings. I know what you mean about feeling guilty either way, though. Have you ever talked to your parents about it?”

Bo stops bouncing her knee. “I’m scared to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it to start a fight. I just want them to understand, you know? Ugh, sorry for dumping this on you. I just don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know if I ever said anything about it to my parents, it would hurt their feelings. And Amber wouldn’t get it. I know you’re not adopted or anything. I just felt like . . . I don’t know . . .”

“No, I know what you mean. Is it because I’m not white?”

“Is that racist?” Bo covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t think so. I’m not gonna understand everything because I’m not adopted, but I at least know what you mean. I know it’s different, but sometimes I feel distant from my culture, too. My dad was the one who knew about all our history and stuff. . . .” I trail off. I’m not trying to talk about my dad right now.

Bo nods. “I get that. My birth parents died when I was just a baby, so I never really got to participate in my culture in an authentic way, you know?”

I shake my head. “Bo, any way you engage with your own culture is authentic, because it’s yours.” And damn, I kind of feel like I needed to hear that myself.

“Thanks. But it still kind of feels icky when the engagement comes through my white parents, you know? They just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I think it’s only natural to feel that cultural separation, and it sucks that your parents don’t get that. I think a lot of white people don’t know what it feels like to be the only one, you know?”

“Exactly! They just don’t know what it’s like to not be white in a place full of white people! I kind of loved that about tonight. I feel like my parents felt how I always feel. I don’t think they’ve ever been such a small minority before. It’s not the same, though, since they just got to see all the fun stuff, and then go back home to their comfortable house where they never have to think about race. I can’t really talk to my parents or Amber about this kind of thing.”

“Or . . . Jenna?” I ask.

Bo sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up. I don’t know why I was looking at her Instagram. It’s like I hate her so much I want to know what she’s doing, you know? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Do you still like her?” I ask, the question burning my throat.

“No! I . . . I have a girlfriend. I don’t . . .” She buries her face in her hands. “I was just trying to get out of my own head, so I got on my phone, and I happened to see her picture, and then I just got mad and started angry-scrolling through her Instagram, you know? Ugh, I sound ridiculous. I should have just enjoyed the show, but I was jealous and I hated feeling that way about you, so I needed to distract myself.”

“I get that,” I say. I’ve definitely angry-scrolled through Bianca’s Instagram more than once. “Are you still feeling that way?”

“Jealous?” Bo starts picking at her fingernails. “Not really. I know tonight was about you. I just haven’t ever had my night, you know? I’m used to being the only one like me in any room.”

“The only one who’s Chinese?”

“Chinese, gay, et cetera.”

In lak’ech.

“That must be hard.” I know it’s hard not being white or straight. But I can’t tell her that.

She nods. “I feel like I’m always the elephant in the room no one wants to talk about. Do you know what I mean? I make people uncomfortable just by existing, but no one wants to acknowledge it. I know I have it easier than a lot of people because of my parents, and because I’m light-skinned, but I still feel like I’m invisible. I’m like Schr?dinger’s gay. I have to shout about being gay and Chinese to prove I actually exist.”