Being Asian, I took one look at the title — “I Love Yous Are For White People” — and took it for granted that it’d be written by a fellow Asian.
I don’t really ever remember either of my parents telling me that they loved me — and when I mentioned this to a white friend, she just looked at me with incredible pity…but, it never really bothered me because, unlike the author of this book, I always fully realized that just because someone doesn’t tell you that they love you, often actions speak louder than words. (Though, his father’s actions leave a lot to be desired and his love in question.)
I really wanted to like this book, but it wasn’t really well-written — and here, I always pit blame on the editor because while everybody seems to think that they can write, not everyone can actually edit well, pushing the author to pare down a story into something that could have actually been really very good.
There’s no denying that Su’s childhood was traumatic — his family had to flee from the Communists (literally running for the rickety boats at the dock and then nearly drowning at sea) and was forced to immigrate to seedy Los Angeles, living in the squalid projects, where Su faced the usual growing pains of any new immigrant.
Add child molestation by a cousin — which was roundly ignored by his mother — and frequent physical abuse by his father, who suffered from depression, physical ailments and old school Asian thinking…and what do you get? A misguided kid looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places — namely an Asian gang.
I know this sounds bad, but there were a couple of times in the book where Su was describing something incredibly stupid that he did — like stealing almost $500 from his parents to fund an obese Mexican kid’s quest to be the top scorer at some dumb arcade game — and I thought, “Oh, Hell, I probably would have beat his ass senseless, too.”
Don’t get me wrong: his father sort of sounded like a typical Asian parent — someone who pressed his kid to study hard and focused solely on getting ahead in life as opposed to nurturing them with constant praise and love — but the guy also sounded vaguely psychotic. (Especially when he’d fly into a rage and one time held a meat cleaver to his son’s throat and threatened to murder the entire family when Su dared to try and stand up for his mother when her husband started beating her up for not cooking the rice properly…Su’s father dumped the food onto the floor in a fit when he saw this.)
On the one hand, the father sounded like a complete psycho, but on the other, I kind of understood where he was coming from — I mean, in a way, a lot of us understand what it’s like to realize that life doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to and that it’s actually a constant struggle; some of us are better at dealing with this fact, others not so much. (I think that’s what separates the people who succeed from those who don’t, actually.)
And then you have Su — I know this sounds bad, but if I’d had him as a kid, I would have probably been disappointed too.
It makes you wonder about the whole nature versus nurture question — are we who we are because of the DNA handed down by our parents or do we become the people we are because of our environment?
The memoir was a quick read — towards the end, it almost wraps up entirely too abruptly. You learn the guy gets married — and I can’t be sure, but I suspect the wife isn’t Asian — and you’re left wondering: how did Su’s parents react to that, given the father was racist and the mother feared anybody who wasn’t Asian?
I get the sense that a sequel is in the works, but I’m not entirely sure if I’ll read it.