How to American: An Immigrant's Guide to Disappointing Your Parents

by Jimmy O. Yang

In my Chinese family, my dad always tells me: “Pursuing your dreams is for losers. Doing what you love is how you become homeless.” The most important values in American culture are independence and freedom. The most important values in Chinese culture are family and obedience.

Should I wait it out and hope my heart doesn’t blow out of my chest? Or should I tell my dad I did some cocaine so he can take me to the hospital? The first choice could mean death; the second choice would come with a lifetime of shame. As a proper Asian, I chose death over shame.

The study-abroad trip was such an amazing experience; it raised the bar for my standard of living. It made me not ever want to go back to my inadequate life back home. I felt a purposeful depression. I wasn’t sad; I was unsatisfied. I wanted more out of life. I needed to step my life up.

When people google “local open mics,” they are one step away from googling “What’s the least painful way to kill myself?” It’s the last frontier before giving up on life.

Six months ago, I was driving drunk assholes in an Uber; now I am eating free salmon next to Harrison Ford? My imposter syndrome kicked into full swing. I felt like I snuck into this party. How did I end up here? I don’t deserve this! These are gods amongst men and I am just a dude who used to pay five dollars to do five minutes at an open mic. I was looking over my shoulder, waiting for a security guard to escort me out.

Danny continued, “And really, that was the truth. Nobody really cared about me here. I was new to America, most of my friends were in China.” That gave me the chills. Every immigrant has felt that way: “Nobody cares about me here.” I know I definitely felt that way when I first came to America. I might not have been able to relate to being carjacked at gunpoint by terrorists, but I could surely relate to the loneliness of being an immigrant.

I was an immigrant. And no matter how Americanized I become, no matter how much Jay-Z I listen to, I’ll always be an immigrant. Just because I don’t speak English with an accent anymore doesn’t mean that I’m better than the people who do. My job as an actor is not to judge anyone and portray a character with humanity. There are real people with real Asian accents in the real world. I used to be one of them. And I’m damn proud of it.

I made it a point to make friends from every ethnic background, instead of just Asian friends. I fought so hard to not be grouped in with the other Asians in college. I didn’t want to be the Chinese kid who only hung out with other Chinese kids; I thought that was so lame and stereotypical. But after the Crazy Rich Asians shoot, I finally got it. It wasn’t about choosing to hang out with people of the same skin tone; it was about hanging out with people who shared the same point of view because they had gone through the same experiences. One of my favorite lines in the Crazy Rich Asians script was “I didn’t have to explain myself that I’m Asian here, I’m just another person.” During the Crazy Rich Asians shoot in Singapore, everyone saw me as who I am. I wasn’t just the Asian kid; I could just be the funny guy, instead of the Asian guy who is funny. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

I never looked at these challenges as barriers; I saw them as opportunities to grow. I’d rather try to pursue my dream knowing that I might fail miserably than to have never tried at all. That is How to American.