An Immigrant Mother's American Dream
An imagined dialogue between my mom and me
I saw you, a doctor in white coat
shuffling between three clinics
answering patients in three tongues.
I saw you, with a rich husband
three kids and a dog
happy in a house with a white picket fence.
Oh, and the house you bought me,
complete with a garden,
a garage and a hot tub.
You take me on cruises
around the world,
snap photos for your proud mama.
And I, living just next doors,
Cooking your favorite dishes
and helping you raise your kids.
Oh, how proud I am,
to have a daughter like you.
—Whoosh!—
Ah-ma, ah-ma!
What now? Where am I?
You are here.
Where? Where’s my big house?
Why aren’t you in a white coat?
You never got your big house.
I never became a doctor.
That was your dream.
Your Big, Fat American Dream.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….
What a pity!
Yes, Ah-ma! A pity for you
that I never fulfilled your dreams!
Why? Why didn’t you
Work harder? For me…
For all my sacrifices?
Aren’t those things the reason
why we’re here?
For a better life?
I never wanted those things.
I never could manage to catch my breath
chasing after them.
I wanted other things that aren’t things.
I wanted to breathe
the air of freedom
and to become an artist
to express who I am
and to receive love and compassion,
freely given.
And Ah-ma, didn’t you want to
have a taste of democracy, too?
Those “things” are your idea of success…
not mine.
But to be successful
in this capitalist world
Means sacrificing my body
My spirit, my sanity.
You call me “too sensitive,”
“too weird.”
But I’m not weak.
I’m just awake.
But why?
Every Chinese immigrant child
CAN achieve those things.
Why can’t you?
Go ahead, call me a loser!
I don’t care.
Why don’t you adopt a successful daughter?
A daughter who will do your bidding
and pump you love on demand
but doesn’t need you to love her back.
I think you’d be much happier
this way
and die
without regret.
Lily — today, I stand right beside you.
I know this dance all too well. All the patriarchal, hierarchical, capitalist, misogynist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, colonialist expectations — all those suffocating layers we were told to strive for, as if they would somehow grant us worth, love, belonging. They never do.
What did I inherit from this so-called life path?
Trauma upon trauma. Ostracism. Bullying. Ridicule. Constant comparison, judgment, categorisation. Labels slapped on me at every turn. And above all: the demand to function — 200%, 220,000 work hours across 35 years. Endless fatigue. Stress. Dissociation. Mental collapse.
I read your words, and I feel the breath of freedom in them — even when the weight of expectation tries to press it back down. It takes courage to say, “This dream was never mine.” And even greater courage to choose your own path, to breathe, to create, to love freely and fully.
Awake is exactly the right word.
And awake we remain.
Lily, “why aren’t you in a white coat”—is definitely the stand out phrase in this one! So true, so real, and so vivid. Hope you’re well this week, Lily! 🙌🏼