being yellow

dear reader,

It is no secret that there is a deep-seated stigma against mental health, regardless of culture or generation. This stigma, however, is especially pronounced in Asian cultures, and because of that, many Asian Americans are not only less likely to receive treatment for a mental disorder but also less likely to receive quality treatment. Without an outlet to discuss their fears, anxieties and trauma, Asian Americans are often either left to grapple with their identity on their own or are never able to come to terms with who they really are. And I am no exception.

If I had to describe myself in three words, the words I would choose are as follows: (1) Ambitious, (2) Anxious and (3) Yellow. Accurate, yet superficial, these three words are hardly enough to capture the entirety of my identity as “Heidi Huilin Peng.” I am my mother’s child. My father’s daughter. My own worst enemy. My greatest ally. But pull back the curtains and what are you left with? A walking contradiction, an enigma, especially to myself. And what has led to this pitiful state are the years of self-hate, denial and loneliness that have constituted the bulk of my childhood and adolescence. 

But I now know that I am not the only 20-year-old American Born Chinese Girl with Almond Eyes that feels this way. I am not alone, and I want others to know that they are not alone either; thus, I have chosen to use my own stories to illustrate the therapeutic nature of remembering and the importance of acknowledging your past, no matter how painful or ugly. 

I, as we all are, am the amalgamation of stories, and my stories come in a multitude of forms: mementos like family recipes and places like the dinner table. They start from the age of 4 and end at 20; more importantly, however, they are about my family. Distant...Warm...and Secretive. They are the reason I am who I am today and the reason I am still breathing, albeit they are also the reason I cannot and do not like myself, the reason I am rusting away.

On a broader scale, I aim to use my own experiences to foster a greater understanding for and even appreciation of discussions surrounding mental health in the Asian American community. On a personal level, however, I want to finally look at myself in the mirror and like the reflection that stares back. To be able to say without faltering, “I love you”; without lying, “I thank you”; and with respect, “Fuck you”.