Carole Hsi Lin Hsiao 蕭席琳

This is a picture of my family. I’m the youngest, less than a year old, wearing a checked jumper propped up by my mother. All of the adults in the photo are refugees from China, my father’s family, whose last name is Hsiao. My middle Chinese name, Hsi (which Microsoft likes to autocorrect), comes from a lineage poem that Hsiao relations from my generation share. My grandfather, who was a scholar at the University of Washington gave me my personal Chinese name “Lin” upon meeting me. It means gem and is written in a poetic manner. My aunts, who are in the back row, were the first females of our lineage to receive personal names. The name Carole comes from my mother’s first American friend. All of these names are written in distinct ways to convey political, poetic, and sentimental meanings and all of them are often misspelled or miswritten. I grew up with expectations imbued by this family who transported their values from pre-1949 China. But I also grew up in America, where people who look like me are often silenced. I care about the rich history of my name but feel that my relationship to my history is changing. This year, I turned 60. It is said that I have completed a life cycle. This year I am also reclaiming my name and my identity, one that has often been erased by systems of power, to begin a new cycle that has yet to be explored.

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