Notes for a Poem on Being Asian American: Explication

Notes for a Poem on Being Asian American

 

As a child, I was a fussy eater

and I would separate the yolk from the egg white

as I now try to sort out what is Asian

in me from what is American –

the east from the west, the dreamer from the dream.

But countries are not

like eggs – except in the fragileness

of their shells – and eggs resemble countries

only in that when you crack one open and look inside,

you know even less than when you started.

 

And so I crack open the egg,

and this is what I see:

two moments from my past that strike me

as being uniquely Asian American.

 

In the first, I'm walking down Michigan Avenue

one day – a man comes up to me out of the blue and says:

"I just wanted to tell you…I was on the plane that

bombed Hiroshima. And I just wanted you to know that

what we did was for the good of everyone." And it

seems as if he's asking for my forgiveness. It's 1983,

there's a sale on Marimekko sheets at the Crate &

Barrel, it's a beautiful summer day and I'm talking to

a man I've never seen before and will probably never

see again. His statement has no connection to me –

and has every connection in the world. But it's not

for me to forgive him. He must forgive himself.

"It must have been a very difficult decision to do what

you did," I say and I mention the sale on Marimekko

sheets across the street, comforters, and how the

pillowcases have the pattern of wheat printed on them,

and how some nights if you hold them before an open

window to the breeze, they might seem like flags –

like someone surrendering after a great while, or

celebrating, or simply cooling themselves in the summer

breeze as best they can.

 

In the second moment – I'm in a taxi and the Iranian

cabdriver looking into the rearview mirror notices my

Asian eyes, those almond shapes, reflected in the glass

and says, "Can you really tell the difference between

a Chinese and a Japanese?"

 

And I look at his 3^rd World face, his photo I.D. pinned

to the dashboard like a medal, and I think of the eggs

we try to separate, the miles from home he is and the

minutes from home I am, and I want to say: "I think

it's more important to find the similarities between

people than the differences." But instead I simply

look into the mirror, into his beautiful 3^rd World

eyes, and say, "Mr. Cabdriver, I can barely tell the

difference between you and me."

 

    The first paradox of the poem is within the title. Are the following lines and stanzas simply notes in preparation for a poem about being Asian American? Are the speaker's thoughts actually notes in a poem format? Would this even be considered a poem? The structure of the poem reads as a set of notes, as the speaker recounts two moments in separate thoughts and stanzas. This division in the poem further supports the idea that these are simply notes for a poem yet to be crafted, yet the piece is in a poetry anthology. Just in the title, there is confusion about the nature of this work. This introduces the theme of conflict and opposition that is echoed throughout the rest of the poem.

    In the first stanza, the speaker writes of many conflicts. While literally, these comparisons stand on their own, metaphorically, the pairs all connote the differences between "Asian" and "American." While it is common culinary practice to "separate the yolk from the egg white," it is also symbolic of separating the differences of yellow skin from white skin. Even as a child, the speaker possessed an innate inclination to not mix the two together. As years progress, the speaker is still trying to separate these two identities, one from the east, and one from the west. The speaker also acknowledges that appearances can be deceiving. A traveler will "know even less than when [he] started" when traveling to a new country. Similarly, the speaker's heritage is much more complex than assumed stereotypes. This first stanza introduces the two separate identities that are both part of the speaker.

    The speaker acknowledges that being "Asian American" is far different from being just "Asian" or just "American". No matter how hard the speaker tries to cleanly draw lines between his two identities, it is impossible because he shares both.

    After this introduction, the speaker recounts two moments. In the first one, another opposition is introduced. While the speaker thinks about the "Marimekko sheets" he wants to buy at Crate & Barrel, a stranger on the street is "asking for [his] forgiveness". Yet the speaker has no existing connections to the Hiroshima bombings, he is paying more attention to the sheet sale. This event shows the speaker's disconnect from both his Asian side and from American strangers. While people on the street assume that he must harbor some grudge for the atomic bombings, he hardly sees how they are relevant in his life. The "sheets" that the speaker continues to refer to is compared to a "flag" in a simile at the end of this stanza. The flag can be seen as surrender of defeat, or of relaxation and contentment. While others perceive that the speaker is waiting for an apology for Hiroshima, he is actually "simply cooling [himself] in the summer breeze". This moment shows the speaker sorting out the American from the Asian within him. In this moment, he ultimately associates more with his American side.

    In the second story, the speaker recounts the confusion of an Iranian cabdriver about Chinese versus Japanese. As his conversation with the taxi driver continues, he notes that he is only "minutes from home." The speaker associates with his American side as home. This marks a change in the speaker's motives. He realizes that he has spent too much time noting the differences between two identities, and not enough time on finding the similarities. By the end of the poem, the speaker stops his sorting. Instead of separating the yolk from the egg, the Asian from the American, he learns to take things as a whole.

    The progress of the poem conveys the evolution of the speaker's beliefs. By the end of the poem, the original oppositions have joined together. The title represents this discovered union. Just as the speaker is neither Asian, nor American, but Asian-American, the piece stands as a poem and works as notes for a further developed poem. Ultimately, it is a mixture of both; the "poem part" cannot be distinguished from the "notes part." Similarly, the speaker's two identities have fused together. This uniting dissolves the conflicts between all the pairs mentioned in the beginning stanza. He is no longer establishing new conflictions; he does not even bother to differentiate the cab driver from himself. Through these two moments that mark the speaker "as being uniquely Asian American", he learns to focus more on "the similarities between people than the differences."