I Am...

I learnt from a very young age that a person's perception (or, more honestly, judgment) of who I was varied depending on the family member that I was introduced with. For instance, as my grandfather's granddaughter, I was often showered with compliments: Wow! So pretty/tall/well-spoken/well-mannered/smart/talented, etc. And I knew not to take those compliments too personally or seriously because they were not directed at me, really. They were indirect compliments to my grandfather. Plus, it would have been crude of me to show any delight from flattery. "So very unsophisticated," as my grandmother would say.


I don't know why, but almost every person I met who knew my dad hated him. What followed "She's XXX (my dad's name)'s daughter" was usually the exact same thing: Don't be like your dad! I'm not kidding. It was so uncanny it was as if they had gathered in a livingroom one day, talked about my dad in great detail and came to that conclusion together. To this day, I still wonder why none of those people stopped and thought, "Wait a minute! She won't know what not-to-be-like-her-dad means because she has no clue what her dad is like to begin with!! We should stop saying that to her because it's total meaningless and hurtful bullshit to say to a little girl anyway." Growing up, I saw so little of my dad that I knew nothing about his personality or preferences. To me, he was simply dad, not that man who did or did not do things to those people. "Whatever that means," I often thought when someone was pointing at my nose with his/her index finger telling me not to be like my dad.

Then I became Katherine (literally, because I gave myself this name when I was 18). I chose this name because of its meaning and how I saw myself. I also refused to shorten it because I wanted my primary school students to practice the th sound. This was a turning point in my life. I was an immature little bratty girl pre-Katherine. As Katherine, I learnt to be responsible not only for myself but for others (my staff). I gained confidence through dealing with difficult situations. While I was assuming my new identity, I enjoyed a kind of freedom by not being associated with anyone and therefore not judged because of the association. I liked being just me and myself, and I felt... if people want to judge me, it was fairer to be judged as myself. However, I was also searching for who I was and who i wanted to be. I modified my behaviour based on how other people behaved toward me. I experimented with different personas to see how well I fit in. Then I ran into my dad on the street one night and saw him out of the context of family. I felt like such an adult because I saw a well-groomed, charismatic man instead of Dad who only came home on major holidays, wolfed down his dinner and always had to leave right away because [insert an excuse]. For the first time, I heard my own opinion, "Hey, I kinda like my dad." It was then I decided to shed the burden: Hell with what others said or thought of my dad. I was going to get to know him myself. I got his phone number (and felt very special 'cause my grandmother didn't even have it), and Katherine was happily shortened to Kate 'cause my dad thought the former was "too heavy, both as a word (with all the extra letters) and as a name (for me)."

I grew into an adult as Kate, and Kate has become my primary identity. I see myself as Kate more than my given Chinese name. Incidentally, here in Canada, my official name gets neglected most of the time, and people gladly know me only by my "also-known-as" name. Considering the back story of how Kate came about, the philosophical part of this primary-and-secondary-names-vs-identities thing is so complex and twisted I'm not even gonna try to put it in words. Let's just say, it all worked out at the end.

Then Bill and I got married, but I've never been called or known as Mrs. Martin (as in 'Bill Martin's wife'). We are still known as 2 individuals, Bill and Kate. I know our children's friends will come to know me as Mrs. Martin (as in 'that Martin kid's mom'), but that's not for a few more years. For now, I'm Mommy: a name by which only 2 people in this world call me, a name I carry with so much pride, a name that's so generic yet personal, a name that's said in such specific way that I'm able to distinguish my own in a chorus of "mommy"s.

But a preschool boy presented another reality to me when I went to pick up Kai at the daycare the other day. As I pushed the door to the playground open, he took a step toward me and asked with such confidence and authority way beyond his age, "Whose mommy are you anyway?" Not WHO are you, but WHOSE mommy are you. I'm not an individual. I'm a possession; I belong to my son. Then it hit me: Kai's mommy or Mrs. Martin, there's gonna be a bunch of people who won't (care to) know me as Kate. It was a rude awakening: From this point on, I will be known (by some) only by association to my children. I'm no longer the centre of the universe. Not even in my own universe!!

Something else I realized: It will be YEARS (if ever) before my own children will be able to see me more than just Mommy. I certainly hope they'll get to know (and like) Kate.

 

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