Yanwen’s blog

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.

Elon Musk and ex-president Donald Trump recently dedicated a significant portion of their conversation on social media X to the southern border crisis. Their discussion underscores the issue’s importance and urgency, but it also reveals the daunting nature of this challenge, which has so far defied any lasting solutions.

This is a crisis of humanity. Whether labeled as a refugee or migration crisis, the pain and desperation behind these movements are visible and universal. Many European countries face similar challenges, especially in the wake of the Iraq War from 2003 to 2011, which displaced millions. The chaos left in the war's aftermath continues to push people from their homes, driven by the relentless tides of conflict, economic ruin, and political instability.

The situation at the U.S.-Mexico border is equally heart-wrenching. According to the Council on Foreign Relations, "Migrants and displaced people from across the world are arriving at the U.S.-Mexico border in droves. More than half come from six Latin American countries, where worsening violence, poverty, and other factors are pushing them to leave. The majority hailed from just six countries: Mexico, Guatemala, Venezuela, Cuba, Ecuador, and Colombia, in descending order."

Imagine the realities behind these faceless statistics -- each number representing a life—a family torn apart, a child who may never see their home again, a parent forced to make the unimaginable decision to leave everything behind in search of safety. 

In Mexico, families are shattered by the violence fueled by drug cartels, which thrive on the insatiable demand for narcotics in the United States. In Cuba, decades of economic hardship, exacerbated by U.S. sanctions, have left people with little choice but to flee. These migrants are not simply seeking a better life; they are escaping circumstances so dire that risking their lives on a perilous journey seems like the only option.

The refugee crisis will persist as long as there are vast disparities between the U.S. and its neighboring countries. But no wall can ever fully block the flow of people who are driven by the primal instinct to survive and protect their loved ones.

The Chinese saying "人往高处走，水往低处流" (Rén wǎng gāo chù zǒu, shuǐ wǎng dī chù liú), meaning "people strive to go upward, just as water flows downward," encapsulates this reality. People will always seek out hope, safety and better life, just as water seeks the lowest point. Instead of building barriers, we must confront the root causes that force people to leave their homes in the first place.

Let us strive to see the humanity in each migrant and understand the profound hardships they face. These are people who have been forced out of their homelands by circumstances beyond their control. Their journey is not one of choice but of necessity. By broadening our understanding, we can replace prejudice with empathy, recognizing that their struggle is not so different from what any of us might face in similar circumstances.

Let us move beyond the headlines and debates to grasp the deeper truths about migration. Only by acknowledging and addressing the systemic issues—historical foreign interventions, economic disparities, and even the growing impact of climate change—can we hope to create a world where people no longer feel forced to leave their homes in search of safety and dignity.

Yesterday, while video chatting with my family in Beijing—my youngest sister and my mother on the other end—I noticed something poignant. My sister observed that my other sister was sending her son to work due to the heavy rain, highlighting their close-knit family dynamic, with all three of them together.

She remarked that their family often engages in activities together whenever possible, which starkly contrasts with her own situation, where her only son lives in America and they see each other once a year or even less.

This observation led me to reflect on a broader issue on China's two generations of people. In my mother's generation, having multiple children was common, and now in her 90s, she is supported by two of her three daughters who live nearby.

However, in our generation, most families have only one child, as seen with my two sisters in Beijing. If their child lived overseas, their lives would be quite different in their old years.

Some might argue that life progresses whether together or apart, but family togetherness is still treasured, especially for older generations. I remember how excited my youngest sister was prior to her son's home visit, so excited that she couldn't sleep for a few days. The comfort and support that family bonds provide are very real. This is why I make it a point to visit Beijing every year to spend time with my mother.

Considering my youngest sister, whose son resides in America, she may feel a blend of pride in her son's independence and a sense of loneliness due to his absence. The contrast between her situation and that of my other sister, who frequently spends time with her son, likely amplifies these feelings.

In a world where most families have only one child, the impact of that child's absence is more noticeable as parents grow older. The Chinese saying 享受天伦之乐 (Xiǎngshòu tiānlún zhī lè)—"enjoy the happiness of family bonds"—captures the essence of cherishing the moments spent with loved ones and the warmth of family connections.