WatercressWatercress

This story is about the power of memory. Not just the beautiful memories, like the ones my mother and father had about eating watercress in China, but also the difficult ones, the memories that are sometimes too painful to share. It starts with my own distressing memory of being made to pick watercress that was growing wild by the side of the road. As the child of Chinese immigrants, growing up in a small, mostly white town in Ohio, I was very aware of how different my family and I were from everyone else. It's hard to feel like you don't belong, and collecting food from a muddy roadside ditch just made that bad feeling more intense for me -- something my very practical parents didn't understand. When I was young, my parents didn't talk about their memories of China, of growing up poor, losing siblings, and surviving war. I don't blame them -- these are difficult topics to discuss with children. But it's important, too, for children to understand their family history. Perhaps if I had known about the hardships they had faced, I would have been more compassionate as a child. Maybe I would have felt more empathy and less anger. More pride in my heritage and less shame. Memories have the power to inform, to inspire, and to heal. This story is both an apology and a love letter to my parents. It's also an encouragement to all children who feel different and to families with difficult pasts -- share your memories. Tell your stories. They are essential.--