The House of the Scorpion': A Mirror of Identity

Introduction

Together, we claw our way through the torrent of people in the ashen train station, and I am met with the customary barrage of swears, spit, and cigarette smoke in my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the characters “山东” on the head of a train, indicating the train’s destination. I tug on my dad’s arm, and we haul ourselves sideways, bolting towards the train.

Between Two Worlds: A Cultural Journey 

Luckily, both my dad and I boarded the train – albeit with moments to spare – and without being crushed to smithereens. One of the train attendants takes our tickets and welcomes us on board, and we take our seats. Finally, it is time to return to Shandong. It is the summer of 2016, and I am heading to Shandong for only the second time in my life; the first time being days after I was born. Although my grandparents had raised me there for six months, I still felt as if I was a stranger entering a new world.

Would I understand the culture around me? Would my dogs still bark at me in welcome or hide like they did with strangers? What was my true home? Was it back in evergreen Bellevue, where I lived, or this smog-filled neighborhood, where I grew up? My mind raced with these questions, faster than the bullet train was racing to Shandong. I look to my side, and see my dad sleeping peacefully, mouth open with a slight snore. For him, this is his home. For him, he is going somewhere that he knows inside and out; I just wondered if I would feel the same.

The House of the Scorpion: Embracing Identity 

I decide to divert my attention elsewhere, and turn to my ever-present book for comfort. As always, it is The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, which has been my favorite book ever since I got my hands on it. Books and reading always came naturally to me, and a really good book found a way straight to my thoughts and emotions. As I read, I feel myself being drawn more and more into the book. Farmer’s character, Matt, struggles over his identity as both a clone and a ruler. His words somehow become my words, his memories become my memories, and his struggles become my struggles. Without fully realizing it, I read the book cover to cover. I look outside and watch as the miles of grassland and rice fields race pass, and simultaneously, my mind seems to slow down. Somehow, I feel relaxed, content, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

I live between two worlds. I am fluent in both Chinese and English, and I have friends of both Chinese and American descent. I go to an American school and take American classes, but also attend Chinese school over the weekends. I use my American views for my rationale and actions, while my Chinese views are for culture and mindset. I eat mashed potatoes as well as stir fried rice. I know every character in the Marvel franchise as well as every story in the Three Kingdoms series. America contains my person; China is my identity.

Conclusion

As I wake up, the train is just drawing into Shandong’s Linqing Station. I am no longer confused about my home, or my identity. I am both Chinese and American; I take the best from both worlds, both experiences. Home is neither this small province in China nor the house where I live in Bellevue; it is wherever I need it to be.