Yanwen’s blog

Today is American Labor Day, observed on the first Monday in September. Today this holiday often marks the end of summer. For most of us, it means a long weekend. It has some interesting historical aspects worth noting.

Both American Labor Day and International Workers' Day, also known as May Day, have their roots in the late 19th-century labor movement in the United States. American Labor Day originated in New York in 1882, while May Day was established to commemorate the Haymarket Riot in Chicago in May 1886.

The Haymarket Riot, or Haymarket Massacre, is a pivotal event in international labor history, having a profound impact on the fight for workers' rights, including the push for an eight-hour workday. The violence and subsequent crackdown during the riot became symbols of both the struggle for labor rights and the repression of international labor movements. As a result, May 1st was designated as International Workers' Day, a day recognized worldwide to honor workers and their sacrifices.

Although the Haymarket Riot galvanized the global labor movement, it left a notorious legacy in the U.S. Due to the suspected association with anarchists and socialists, and its perceived radicalism, the riot was viewed unfavorably in its own country. The Haymarket Martyrs were labeled as radicals and criminals rather than being commemorated as heroes.

In response to these tensions, and following the Pullman Strike of 1894—a nationwide railroad strike that resulted in significant disruptions and federal intervention—President Grover Cleveland sought to improve relations with the labor movement. To distance American Labor Day from the violent connotations of the Haymarket affair and avoid associating the U.S. labor movement with its radical elements, Cleveland signed a law establishing Labor Day as a national holiday on the first Monday in September.

A Chinese saying, 避实就虚 (Bì shí jiù xū), translates to “Avoid the reality, choose the illusion.” This saying implies avoiding difficult or controversial issues in favor of something less contentious.

By establishing American Labor Day on the first Monday in September rather than May 1st, the U.S. government chose to 避实就虚, distancing itself from the contentious history of the Haymarket Riot and promoting a more neutral and uncontroversial observance.

The first day of September marks the start of Labor Day weekend in America, and with it, the beginning of the fall semester. For high school seniors, this signals the start of college application season—a time filled with anticipation and stress. For me, it also means extra work.

Last Friday, while walking along the Brooklyn waterfront with my son, I mentioned that a high school friend of mine was planning to return to China for the 60th anniversary celebration of our alma mater, Tianjin Foreign Languages School.

My son strongly encouraged me to go, even offering to pay for the trip. I gave him several reasons for not attending, one of which was the college application season. I’ve already been contacted by a few anxious Chinese parents seeking help with their children's essays.

This anxiety seems particularly prevalent among Chinese parents. While many American parents are certainly concerned about their children's college choices, the intensity of this concern can vary widely. In more competitive regions or among certain socioeconomic groups, some American parents do experience significant anxiety about which college their child attends. However, the pressure and energy they invest may not always match the level seen in many Chinese families, where educational achievement is often regarded as a marker of success and family honor.

For Chinese parents, particularly first-generation immigrants, education is of paramount importance. This belief often leads to greater parental involvement in the college application process, including seeking out help with essays and other materials. Interestingly, the second generation, having been more Americanized, tends to adopt a more relaxed approach.

The Chinese saying 望子成龙 (Wàng zǐ chéng lóng), meaning "hoping one's child becomes a dragon," reflects the high expectations and aspirations parents have for their children's success, particularly in education. This phrase also captures the deep-seated anxiety that accompanies the college application process for many parents, where academic and professional success are seen as vital to their children’s future.

This cultural expectation is deeply rooted in the belief that education is the key to a prosperous future. While the second generation may have adopted a more relaxed approach, for many first-generation immigrant parents, the stakes remain high. Helping their children going through the college application process is not just about gaining admission to a prestigious school; it's about fulfilling a dream of success that has spanned generations. In this way, the college application season becomes a reflection of the hopes and anxieties that define the immigrant experience, where every application holds the potential to turn their child into the "dragon" they’ve long envisioned.

Yesterday, a friend shared some writing with me about the new film Didi (Little Brother). Intrigued, I looked into it and found that the film revisits timeless themes of the coming-of-age journey of a Chinese American boy experiencing tensions between individual identity and immigrant culture.

Set in Fremont, South Bay, during the summer of 2008, the film’s plot centers on cultural and generational tensions within an Asian immigrant family. The 13-year-old protagonist struggles to break free from the constraints of his family's Asian culture while seeking his own identity within American teenage culture.

Though the theme of cultural and generational tension is familiar, it becomes especially poignant in the clash between Eastern and Western values—where one emphasizes the collective and family, and the other, the individual. In many East Asian societies, there is a strong focus on conformity, respect for tradition, and adherence to social roles, often at the expense of personal desires.

In the film, the boy experiences immense pressure to meet cultural and family expectations, particularly in areas like academic success and adherence to parental values. This pressure creates a profound internal conflict: on one hand, the child feels the need to seek approval and comfort from the family; on the other, he must suppress his own desires to assert his emerging identity.

Amid this tension, the child undergoes layers of self-denial. He grapples with rejecting his family's culture and his own racial and cultural identity in pursuit of larger social acceptance outside home, while simultaneously seeking external validation from American culture.

The generational divide exacerbates this struggle. The first generation often emphasizes traditional values such as respect for authority, family loyalty, and success within the cultural framework they know and expect. In contrast, their American-born child may gravitate toward individualism, personal freedom, and openness to different career or lifestyle choices, naturally leading to a clash in values and expectations.

In Didi, the protagonist’s journey highlights the often-overlooked emotional struggles of second-generation immigrants, caught between the expectations of their heritage and the realities of their new environment. While the film may not introduce new themes, I write about it to shed light on a crucial issue: the importance of Chinese parents recognizing and understanding these tensions from their child's perspective. By grasping the internal conflicts their children face, parents can be better prepared to support them in navigating the complexities of identity, ultimately fostering a more compassionate and understanding family environment.

Last year, I came across a Forbes article detailing states with the highest outbound and inbound migration. Leading the list of outbound states were California, New York, and Illinois—states under Democratic leadership. In contrast, Republican-led states like Texas, Florida, and South Carolina saw the highest rates of inbound migration. I'm wondering why many people in Democratic states move to Republic states.

While this trend is influenced by numerous factors beyond politics, including high housing costs, taxes, business environment, and the cost of living, other significant contributors are declining social order and increasing crime rates, particularly in states like California. This lack of order is particularly troubling.

California, struggling with a high homeless population, drug addiction challenges, and controversial criminal justice policies like Proposition 47, has experienced a significant rise in crime rates.

Proposition 47, which reclassified certain non-violent felonies as misdemeanors, aimed to reduce the negative impacts of incarceration and save money. However, it has also contributed to increased property crimes, making law enforcement’s job and business more challenging. For example, Target closed three stores in the San Francisco and Oakland areas in 2023 due to high theft rates.

The state’s overcrowded prison system and financial constraints on expanding prison facilities have led to early release programs, exacerbating crime rates further. Consequently, several large companies, including Oracle, Charles Schwab, HP, and Tesla, have relocated to Texas, likely in search of a more business-friendly environment.

A Chinese saying, 良禽择木而栖 (Liáng qín zé mù ér qī), meaning "A wise bird chooses the right tree to nest in," reflects the idea of seeking a better and safer environment. This explains why individuals and businesses are moving from states with unfavorable conditions to those offering better opportunities and a safer environment.

Ultimately, no city or state can thrive without a secure and peaceful environment. High crime rates and social disorder can undermine economic stability and contribute to significant brain drain, much like how war can devastate a country’s economy.

By the way, on 8/27, I submitted a reminiscing article celebrating the 60th anniversary of our Tianjin Foreign Languages School, right before its deadline. It’s written in Chinese. I told some of my former classmates about it, hoping they would show some interest and would proofread it. Nah. Nope.

On August 10th, 12th, and 16th, I shared some reflections on Morgan Housel's book Same as Ever: A Guide to What Never Changes. Today, I’d like to delve deeper into the topic of risk.

"Risk is what you don't see. We are very good at predicting the future, except for the surprises--which tend to be all that matter." Thus begins one of its chapters.

Throughout history, people have consistently failed to foresee the biggest risks and most significant events. Take for example the Great Depression of 1929. In 1930, the U.S. National Economic League conducted a public opinion survey asking citizens what they believed was the country's most pressing issue. The top concerns for them were law enforcement, lack of respect for the law, and Prohibition. Unemployment ranked only eighteenth.

"Either everyone in the past was blinded by delusion. Or everyone in the present is fooled by hindsight."

If these risks had been anticipated, people would have prepared for them, and in hindsight, their impact would have been mitigated. In that case, they wouldn't have been considered risks at all. That's why Housel asserts: the biggest risks of the next ten years are the ones that no one is talking about today.

This is an eternal truth. No matter when you read this book, the reality remains the same: the future is inherently unpredictable. This was true in the past, and it will continue to be true in the future.

Housel's advice for dealing with an unpredictable future is simple: focus on preparation. And prepare more than you think is necessary, allowing for an extra layer of safety.

For instance, in personal finance, Housel believes that the right amount of savings should exceed what you initially planned. When you start to feel like it might be too much, that’s probably the right amount.

Similarly, when making financial plans, if you expect an 8% annual return on your investments, it’s wise not to base your future financial plans solely on that number. A better approach would be to discount that expectation, ensuring that your plans can still be realized even if the return is only 4% to 5%. The underlying principle is the same.

Finally, I share this part on risk to emphasize the importance of preparing for unforeseen challenges, as we can't predict them.