I am Chinese Canadian.

It took me a long time to label myself that, even though I’ve been a Canadian citizen since the mid-90s. It took me a long time to accept that I am a mixture of two national and ethnic identities.

By default, I’ve always thought of myself as just Chinese. When people ask me where I’m from, or what my background is, I tell them I’m Chinese. After all, I was born in Hong Kong, I still speak Cantonese, and physically I resemble a Chinese man. But starting from my teens, I started to realize that although I am Chinese by birth, I am not very Chinese by culture, definitely not Chinese by gender or sexuality roles, and perhaps not very Chinese by values either.

As an individual, one of my major cultural identifiers is music. I am a huge pop music fanatic, and I identify with my favourite pop stars and pop songs. I also make music, and I consider my work to often be the purest, most honest representation of who I am.

As such, it is rather telling that I haven’t listened to Cantopop or written a song in Cantonese in over a decade. I definitely grew up listening to Cantopop as a kid, and its influence on my musical tastes and my songwriting continues today, but I no longer keep up with it, and most current Cantopop that I hear doesn’t interest me musically or lyrically. In terms of writing Cantonese lyrics, I think I have a better chance at writing good French lyrics than good Canto lyrics at this point.

The funny thing is that in the 80s and early 90s, Cantopop was mostly made up of international covers, so as a child, I actually took a lot in European and American musical influences, just with Cantonese lyrics. Today, most of what I listen to isn’t Canadian (though I wish we had a more vibrant and successful music industry) or American, but European, specifically British in many cases. So I guess musically, although I’m not very Chinese, I’m not that Canadian either; I’m more of a Brit than anything.

Another one of my major identifiers is my sexuality. I think it’s very likely that if I’d stayed in Hong Kong, I wouldn’t be out of the closet. I certainly wouldn’t feel so comfortable about my sexuality either. I think I probably would have a girlfriend or even a wife by now, and would lead a double life after hours in underground gay bars. In other words, I am definitely a Canadian queer more than a Chinese queer, right down to my understanding of sexuality, of what it means to be gay, to be queer. My entire understanding of homosexuality, in terms of culture, community, behaviour, beliefs, and the arts, comes from Western (including Canadian) literature and media, and first- or second-hand experiences on Church Street. 

I lived in Hong Kong during my earliest formative years, from birth into early primary school, but Canada, Ontario, Toronto, and more specifically Mississauga are where I’ve lived, grown up, and experienced life for just over two decades now. I guess it’s not illogical or surprising that at this point, after all these years, I am more Canadian than Chinese. However, it’s taken me a lot of time and energy to start feeling okay about that, to not feel ashamed about that. I’m still working on it.

Yes, it’s great and important for me to learn all that I don’t know about being Chinese, from history, all disciplines of art, language, sociology, to many other fields. They say you should never forget where you come from, and I agree, but I’m realizing that I come from Canada as much as I come from Hong Kong, if not more so.

I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’m much more proficient in English than in Canto. I shouldn’t feel bad that I know, and am interested in, more Western celebrities and artists than Chinese ones. I shouldn’t wonder if it’s wrong that I feel more at home in Canadian culture than in Chinese culture.

I am Chinese Canadian, more Canadian than Chinese. And that’s fine.