Annie Tan - Drumstick, Please!

 

My dad has called me every single day since I left home for college. Every single day. He always calls and he always asks me the same question every time, "Néih sihk jó faahn meih a?" That's Cantonese for, "Have you eaten yet?" I always say something we both know, like the word "chī gēn." But how do you translate words like hummus in Cantonese? Or, if he asked me, "Where did you go today?" I'd say something like, "Well, I went to the place where you see the movies," because I don't know how to say movie theater in Cantonese. And then, eventually, we'd have nothing to say, and then we'd hang up after 30 seconds. He's done this every day.

 

But my Cantonese is not great, because as a kid of immigrants here in New York, I was so focused on my family's survival, figuring out how to translate the mail, going to Medicaid, now Medicare appointments, that I lost almost all my Chinese. My parents do not speak any English. And so, at a young age, I gave up hope of ever really understanding my parents. But my dad persisted. 

 

And by Thanksgiving 2015, I had been living in Chicago, and dad had been calling me for eight straight years. And this day, he calls, "Annie, Néih sihk jó faahn meih a?" Yes, I am eating right now at my friend's place with their parents. My dad pauses and he says, "Annie, why are you not here with us in New York with your own parents? Fine. Stay there in Chicago. Do not come home," and he hung up. And for a day, and for the next few days and for a week, he did not call. [screams] And I loved it. [audience laughter] I hated these phone calls. It was such an obligation. [audience laughter] My mom calls me a week later, I guess she had been waiting for me to call for a week, and she says, "You know how serious it has become. Annie, dad is saying that if you do not move back to New York, he will never speak to you again." 

 

I am furious and sobbing, and I cannot believe my parents would threaten me like this, like, would meddle in my life. I moved to Chicago to have my own life, you know? And so, I tell my mom this that, "If you want to not talk to me again, that is your choice," and I hung up the phone. I had no idea what to do, so I called my best friend. And my best friend was like, "Annie, what?” Like, “You have been talking to your dad for eight years. He has been calling you for eight years. Maybe you should be the one to call him for a change." 

 

And three weeks pass, and I fly home for Christmas. And in fact, I am allowed home to my childhood home here in Chinatown. No one is talking, and I do not know what to say. My dad does something he has never done before. He took the chicken drumstick for himself. Now, in Chinese households, there is an untold rule that if there is an important guest in the house, like your daughter coming home after a few months, you give her the best food. But he took the drumstick and he took the fish cheeks and the fish eyes, and then he went to bed without talking to me.

 

And my best friend was like, "Annie, what do you want from your dad? What do you want?" I go, "I just want to be happy and I want my dad to be happy too." And so, I decided to tell him that over lunch the next day. And I go, "Bàba [speaks Cantonese]." Dad says, "Annie, how can I be happy when you are in Chicago? I know I cannot convince you of this. I know you are your own person. But just know I want you back here in New York." And so, dad had taken his stand, and now it was my turn to figure out what I was going to do. 

 

And the next few days at home were good. You know, Dad at least gave me a chance at the drumstick this time. But he also was telling his dad jokes. He was cleaning up after me too. And I realized, he is not a talker. These phone calls after eight years maybe just were not working anymore for him. His love language was definitely acts of service. He could not put a chicken drumstick on my plate from 800 miles away. That same week, I had tickets to see this Asian-American musical on Broadway. It is one of very few musicals with people who look like me. It was called Allegiance. 

 

The main character is a Japanese-American man whose family goes through the Japanese internment camps during World War II. His family goes through so much trauma that by the end of the play, he has decided to leave his family. George Takei, who is playing the main character, stands on stage after 60 years of being estranged from his family, and he just starts crumpling and sobbing on stage. And I, in the very back row of that theater, start sobbing for the next 20 minutes. It takes me a few more months to decide, but I knew at that moment that I could not give up on my family anymore. 

 

A few months later, I moved back to New York. Today actually marks three and a half years that I have been back. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

It has been hard. I have had a lot of arguments with my dad since. But this past Thanksgiving, after 30 plus years of being here in America, my dad had his first Thanksgiving turkey ever, and he put that drumstick on my plate. Dad still calls me every day, but now I take Cantonese classes, so our phone calls are a little bit more than 30 seconds now. And sometimes I am the one who calls Dad first. Thank you.