Flying From Home –– Embracing Cultural Conflict and Family Bonds

Artwork by Ellery Ibo

By Emily Wang

When a baby bird’s wings are clipped at birth, it becomes unable to fly. The baby bird’s nest becomes its sanctuary of comfort, as well as the birthplace of its greatest hindrances. 

Growing up as a Chinese American child of divorced, immigrant parents has often felt like being a baby bird with clipped wings. Born into a culture that clashes with that of my parents, I’ve found myself grappling with a complex mix of guilt and bitterness over the identity bestowed upon me by my heritage and family. However, it’s only been through the cycle of leaving and returning home over the past few years that I’ve come to embrace the experiences and lessons that stem from these cultural and intergenerational conflicts. 

The years leading up to my parents’ divorce drove my family further and further apart. In trying to keep their children close, my mother and father continually pleaded with my sister and me to side with one or the other. Late-night talks with my father about why the divorce may be the best decision were followed by morning drives to school with my mother venting about the most recent way her trust had been betrayed. With every passing day, I grew more resentful of both of them and myself. Ever since we were kids, my parents had reminded my sister and me that being a family meant caring for one another unconditionally, but at thirteen years old, how could I have been expected to know how to mend a marriage that had been loveless for as long as I could remember? With my father moving across the world, my sister across the country, and my own hopes to go to school in New York, could it even be denied that our family was falling apart? Yet at the same time, what did it say about me that I didn’t want to listen to the frustrations of my parents? I felt riddled with guilt each time I argued with them, but I knew that every conversation only distanced me further.  

When a bird feels threatened in its nest, it may fly away, only to return once the threat has passed. But when a bird’s wings are clipped, it takes time for its feathers to grow back, for flight to be a possibility again. 

By my senior year of high school, I had committed to NYU–– my heart was set on new goals that didn’t involve a marriage I couldn’t fix. And yet the idea of being so far from home felt inherently wrong and traitorous. My mother and grandparents constantly reminded me of what it meant to leave home. Every phone call with my grandparents on WeChat brought the same questions: Mei mei, how long is the flight from New York to San Francisco? Why are you and your sister both so far from your mom? Why did you leave her? Is it because of the divorce that you wanted to leave your family? My mother and I tried to laugh at the absurdity of it each time, but from both the uneasiness in my chest and the dejection in her eyes, I knew the undeniable weight behind those words. 

In my last, bittersweet months at home before starting college, I tried to spend as much time with my mother as possible, yet each day was overshadowed by a sense of sadness. After all, despite my own belief that the divorce had been for the best, I knew my mother still carried with her the overwhelming burden of shame for breaking up a traditional family structure, as my grandparents had always proclaimed that any family that wasn’t together was intrinsically flawed and weak. Despite my reassuring her every day that I would come back home whenever I had the chance, my leaving home at all was confirmation that she had failed to raise children who loved and cared enough for their family. And it was in this manner that each day passed until I found myself exchanging goodbyes with my mother at the airport, and all I could do was weep into her shoulder and desperately hope that time would pass quickly and gently for us both. 

When enough time has passed, the baby bird’s clipped wings will grow back. Now ready to fly from its nest for the first time, the baby bird will plummet towards the ground and hopefully guide itself into flight, gaining confidence as it teaches itself to navigate the sky. 

Throughout my first two years at NYU, there have been moments when my grandparents’ words continued to reverberate through my head. Sunday calls home broken up by static and a time difference serve as a harsh reminder that my grandparents were right–– it is so much harder to show people that you love and care from so far away. Busy days on campus make me wonder whether my mother and grandparents would be proud of the person I am away from home, whether all my efforts and achievements in school could ever make my guilt and leaving home worth it. Dreams of my mother in California leave my cheeks streaked with tears like a child’s, yearning to just convince her that I do not resent her for our years of arguing, that I am not ashamed of our family, that my leaving doesn’t mean I’ll never be by her side again. 

And yet from so far away, all I can do is continue moving forward, towards the next time I can go home. I remind myself that each laggy phone call will only make hearing my mother’s voice up close and being home again more comforting instead of stressful. As I come to love the community and friends around me in New York and as I learn more about their own stories, I realize that perhaps we have all flown from home in some way, that perhaps it means just as much to wholly love and care for everything around me here as it does to do the same at home. With every passing day, I believe more and more that it is and will be okay to be far from home–– only by being away for some time before returning can we know that despite the hurt, we continue to love and care for each other. 

When a baby bird leaves its nest, it does so not because it wants to leave its mother behind or because it will never return, but because flying away promises an opportunity for recovery, new directions, and a better homecoming. 

妈妈, 你怎么样啊？我很快就飞回家了。我爱你想你。

Mom, how are you? I’m flying home soon. I love and miss you.

Emily Wang is a sophomore studying Nursing and Global Public Health, and a first-time writer for Generasian! In her free time, she enjoys kickboxing, binge-watching Bob’s Burgers, and horsing around New York with friends 🙂