Warm water poured over my head in the sink of a small motel in Vermillion, South Dakota. My mom rinsed suds from the smooth sleeves of hair streaking across my forehead. She sang lullabies to me while I drifted off to sleep in the steaming bath.
In the deep freeze of Midwestern December, I christened Christmas with my delightful entrance into the world. My mom and I recovered in a small motel for 30 days before we traveled home to Hangzhou, China.
Even though I’ve lived in the United States for 10 years now, I still partly consider Hangzhou my home. It was where I learned to write Chinese calligraphy, shoot a water gun at my brother and enjoy hour-long dinners with my family. It’s what I remember when I see a movie with an Asian family, like “How to Make Millions before Grandma Dies” or “Dìdi.” The movies look exactly like my childhood, when I spent every day with my relatives, spoiled by snacks and toys. It is why I cry when I see green parks swimming with toddlers walking hand-in-hand with their grandparents. Hangzhou, China, was the warm soil that fed and raised my little body.
Despite my roots there, China was also the first place that rejected me. My older brother, born seven years prior, fulfilled the legal limit of children enforced by the Chinese government. The One-Child Policy would not have allowed my birth unless my family paid the hefty fine or lost their jobs. The One-Child Policy nearly cost my life, but it cost my mom everything. After quitting her dream job as an architect, my mom packed her bags and quickly flew to America alone, before anyone back home discovered the Cai family secret.
Since I’ve gotten older, I realize the fear my parents must’ve felt. Lose your child or lose your career and reputation. It feels unfair, that while I gained American citizenship and the privilege of life within a loving family, my mom lost much of her prior life. Understanding that kind of sacrifice changed everything for me.
In middle school, I realized that I wanted to protect women and children, the way my mom protected me. I did this through volunteering with survivors of domestic violence, and I am excited to pursue legal advocacy after high school. For now, I’ll stick to cleaning my room (or trying to) and saying “I love you” a million more times.
