A mixed race Alice and the mushroom of false binaries
"One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."
This is the enigmatic statement the caterpillar makes before leaving Alice in Chapter 5 of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. The first half of this chapter consists of Alice's encounter with a caterpillar who begins their conversation by interrogating her about who she is and rudely dismisses Alice's confusion at having grown and shrunk so much since arriving in Wonderland. This encounter is what inspired me to do a mixed race reading of Alice and re-interpret one of my favorite stories as a narrative of mixed race identity.
There are really several aspects of Alice's story that are relatable to experiences of mixed race folks (and people of color in general, in some cases). The caterpillar's insistent "Who are YOU?" is pretty darn similar to everyone's favorite microaggression, the notorious "What are you?". Alice is forced to grow and shrink drastically several times throughout the story to navigate Wonderland, often to pass barriers and enter spaces that she wouldn't have been able to otherwise (code switching!).
For me, this recalls my own experiences as a biracial/transnational individual struggling to figure out my identity in terms of race/ethnicity/nationality and be "enough" of one thing or another, and the confusion of being told by others that some things make me "more Asian" and some things make me "more white", as if my racial identity is determined by a tally of some arbitrarily decided point system. Of course, this isn't entirely exclusive to mixed race folks -- many POCs have experiences of being told that they are "whitewashed" or "too ___" or "not really ___" for all sorts of arbitrary reasons. Who likes "ethnic legitimacy"? No one.
Throughout the original story, Alice's signature characteristic has been her curiosity and capacity for "wondering" -- and she has pondered a lot of mathematical and logical concepts (there are lots of interesting analyses of the math of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland). Alice's circumstances and characteristics struck me as the perfect opportunity to explore the illogicality behind the concept of blood quanta, the idea that "how (insert race or ethnicity here)" a person is is something that can be determined in a quantitative manner by the racial or ethnic identities of their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, etc. Putting any kind of measure on the identity of a person is arbitrary, reductive, and problematic; identity is so much more complex than that.
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Featuring the Punctual Rabbit of Mixed Heritage (not actually in my story, unfortunately), the Caterpillar of Microaggression, and the Mushroom of False Binaries. (haha)
Diary of the Mixed Race / Transnational Fairy Tale Heroine
These are some photos of the original book I made to house three stories (1, 2, 3) for a creative project for class. The three stories were written in the form of letters from the three protagonists' points of view and were very personal in nature, so I wanted the book to feel personal and hand-sized, like a diary. The paper was stained in tea for that nice "old-paper" look, the binding is hand-sewn, and the cover was made by hand very simply from some cardboard and plain black fabric. This was really fun, and I'd like to try making more books like this in the future!
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It is with a heavy heart that I write you this letter, for I don’t know when I will see you again. When you found me as a small child in a stalk of shining bamboo that cold snowy day, you took me in and raised me as you would have a child of your own flesh and blood. You have shown me such kindness and generosity all these years, and I could have asked for no better home.
However, what you did not know that winter night all those years ago is that I have another place which I call home, and that there will eventually come a time when I must return there. That time has come, and I must return to my first home, my place of origin, the kingdom of the Moon.
Though I must leave you, please know that I am so grateful to have had such wonderful parents. I will miss you, and I will think of you every time I look up to see the glowing Earth high in the skies.
I was in another world, one that was strange but also strangely familiar. That doesn’t make much sense, does it? Let me try to explain. In my mind, I know that it was a different world, with surroundings and people that wouldn’t exist in in this one, but it felt just like this world. Is that clear? Not quite? The way the people there behaved and interacted with me was quite similar to how people do in this one, so it felt very natural at the time, even though the people I encountered there included a rabbit, a dodo, some playing cards, a strange hatter, and quite a curious cat. You know how dreams are.
The details of the dream are slipping away, but I do remember quite distinctly a conversation I had with a curiously large caterpillar sitting atop an equally curiously large mushroom. It was looking at me strangely, in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable, when out of nowhere it asked me “What are you?” I was taken aback by its sudden inquiry and was probably staring back at it for a while until it asked again impatiently “What are you?”
“Well, that is quite obvious. What are you?”
Many words began to fly through my head, words I’ve used to call myself or those which other people have used to call me: mixed, hapa, half-breed, biracial, multiracial, multicultural, fifty-fifty, half-and-half… “I—I’m not sure,” I managed to stammer back. “I’ve been several things, and it’s quite confusing.”
The caterpillar still did not seem satisfied. “What do you mean by that?” it demanded. “How can one creature be several things?”
I was beginning to feel a little irritated by the caterpillar at this point. Why do I need to explain to this stranger how difficult it is to claim just one complete identity for myself and at the same time satisfy the curiosity of others, to tell them all the parts of myself so they can split me up into their neat little categories?
“It’s quite simple.” The caterpillar suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
“Excuse me?” I asked. “What…is simple?”
The caterpillar was silent for a few moments before speaking again. “Eat from one side, and it will make you more like one side and less like the other. Eat from the other side, and it will make you more like the other side and less like the first.” With that enigmatic statement, the caterpillar climbed down from the mushroom and crawled away.
Eat from one side and it will make me more like one side? But why should eating, or doing anything, shift who I am in some way or another? I know that no matter what I eat or do I am still the same me. I suppose it could change how others see me… But what if I chose only one side and did everything I could to shift how others see me toward that direction? Would I go from “half and half” to “two-thirds and one-third” and then “three-quarters and one-quarter” and so on? And does that mean I would eventually reach just “one”, and I would consist only of that one side and completely lose the rest? And what if I went further…does that make me “more than one”? No, this doesn’t make sense. Why should my “sides” take away from each other? One can’t measure my experiences or who I am on a balance, and adding to my experiences doesn’t upset the balance because there is no balance to upset, and it doesn’t subtract anything from me -- because how can adding something lead to loss?
Talking about people in terms of these quantities doesn’t make sense because people aren’t made up of discrete quantities of separate things. How can one say that someone is “half this” or “quarter that” or “too this” or “not that enough”? In what arbitrary way can one measure everything that defines us and makes us who we are? I believe that there is only one definite number which can be used to describe people, and that is that everyone is one whole person.
Thank you for putting up with my musings, dear sister. I am eager to hear back from you.
I was born in the sea, a fluid land of constant change. There are calm days and stormy nights, wild morning and peaceful evenings. The sea changes with the hours, the seasons, the weather—it reflects the ever-changing sky.
Like the sea I am fluid, a mix of identities—sometimes more of one than another, or vice versa—and never just one, or half, but all, and all in one.
But once, I forgot that. Once, I wanted to be just one—not all in one, but only a part of myself, as one. I wanted to forget the rest of me, all the other parts of me that make me me, to go to the dry land—somewhere I wanted to go but didn’t think I could have gone to otherwise. Now, I don’t know if that was true. But how was I to think otherwise? I saw no one else like myself there. There, the people on the rigid, dry land—I was like them and also not like them. I thought if I could take the part of myself that was like them and make that my whole self, I would be able to go there, and they would accept me.
Isolated in this rigid place, I’ve grown lonely and homesick. And so, I’ve decided, with all my might—I must return home, to the sea.