This is a picture of my grandmother’s sister. She had died in Penang or another part of Malaysia that I don’t remember. I got this picture when I visited Malaysia in order to try to find her sibling some time in my twenties.
It made me think about siblings and the relationships that people go through. I feel like it’s a good thing that I don’t have siblings, what with the complication and other factors that come with it, and that comes with keeping in touch.
I don’t really know what to write about the family above, apart from the fact that I do feel as if I was adopted by different families growing up.
I have this conversation with a lot of people constantly, about how I was raised, and what had happened to me as a child, and consequently, how it has shaped me as an adult.
It also makes me think about the ways that we present ourselves to different people– I was raised in so many different ways, by Malaysian Chinese people, by Brits, but I would not say by my parents, really. So what happens when you are raised well by others but not by the people who supposedly wanted you on the planet?
But something did occur to me. If my race has taught me anything, is that I’m expected to be a good girl. So what happens when you’re no longer a poor (figuratively) Chinese girl who needs to be saved? What does the world make of you then?