摘要
How I Got That Name
an essay on assimilation
I am Marilyn Mei Ling Chin.
Oh, how I love the resoluteness
of that first person singular
followed by that stalwart indicative
of “be,” without the uncertain i-n-g
of “becoming.” Of course,
the name had been changed
somewhere between Angel Island and the sea,
when my father the paperson
in the late 1950s
obsessed with a bombshell blond
transliterated “Mei Ling” to “Marilyn.”
And nobody dared question
his initial impulse—for we all know
lust drove men to greatness,
not goodness, not decency.
And there I was, a wayward pink baby,
named after some tragic white woman
swollen with gin and Nembutal.
My mother couldn’t pronounce the “r.”
She dubbed me “Numba one female offshoot”
for brevity: henceforth, she will live and die
in sublime ignorance, flanked
by loving children and the “kitchen deity.”
While my father dithers,
a tomcat in Hong Kong trash—
a gambler, a petty thug,
who bought a chain of chopsuey joints
in Piss River, Oregon,
with bootlegged Gucci cash.
Nobody dared question his integrity given
his nice, devout daughters
and his bright, industrious sons
as if filial piety were the standard
by which all earthly men were measured.
Oh, how trustworthy our daughters,
how thrifty our sons!
How we’ve managed to fool the experts
in education, statistics and demography—
We’re not very creative but not adverse to rote-learning.
Indeed, they can use us.
But the “Model Minority” is a tease.
We know you are watching now,
so we refuse to give you any!
Oh, bamboo shoots, bamboo shoots!
The further west we go, we’ll hit east;
the deeper down we dig, we’ll find China.
History has turned its stomach
on a black polluted beach—
where life doesn’t hinge
on that red, red wheelbarrow,
but whether or not our new lover
in the final episode of “Santa Barbara”
will lean over a scented candle
and call us a “bitch.”
Oh God, where have we gone wrong?
We have no inner resources!
Then, one redolent spring morning
the Great Patriarch Chin
peered down from his kiosk in heaven
and saw that his descendants were ugly.
One had a squarish head and a nose without a bridge.
Another’s profile—long and knobbed as a gourd.
A third, the sad, brutish one
may never, never marry.
And I, his least favorite—
“not quite boiled, not quite cooked,”
a plump pomfret simmering in my juices—
too listless to fight for my people’s destiny.
“To kill without resistance is not slaughter”
says the proverb. So, I wait for imminent death.
The fact that this death is also metaphorical
is testament to my lethargy.
So here lies Marilyn Mei Ling Chin,
married once, twice to so-and-so, a Lee and a Wong,
granddaughter of Jack “the patriarch”
and the brooding Suilin Fong,
daughter of the virtuous Yuet Kuen Wong
and G. G. Chin the infamous,
sister of a dozen, cousin of a million,
survived by everybody and forgotten by all
She was neither black nor white,
neither cherished nor vanquished,
just another squatter in her own bamboo grove
minding her poetry—
when one day heaven was unmerciful,
and a chasm opened where she stood.
Like the jowls of a mighty white whale,
or the jaws of a metaphysical Godzilla ()①,
it swallowed her whole.
She did not flinch nor writhe,
nor fret about the afterlife,
but stayed! Solid as wood, happily
a little gnawed, tattered, mesmerized
by all that was lavished upon her
and all that was taken away!
我是如何得到那个名字
小议同化
我是玛丽莲?陈美玲。
哦，我是多么地热爱
那坚定的第一人称代词
“我”，伴随着那矢志不移的
“是”，而不是那不确定的
“成为”。当然，
我的名字曾被改变过
在天使岛① ()和大海之间的某个地方，
当我的“纸契”② ()父亲
在五十年代末
迷上了一个丰满的金发女郎
将我的名字“美玲”音译成“玛丽莲”。
没有人敢质疑
他当初的冲动——因为我们都知道
是欲望诱惑男人走向成功，
不是美德，不是儒雅。
那时，我还是个任性、粉嘟嘟的婴儿，
顶着一个悲惨的白人女人的名字
她的身体因酒和耐波他① ()而肿胀。
我的母亲发不出“r”的音。
为了方便，她戏称我为“头号女影星”：
此后，她从生到死
都处在高尚的无知中，
一边是爱她的孩子们，一边是“灶神”。
而我的父亲焦虑不已，
就像一只香港街头的“野猫”——
一个赌徒，一个流氓，
开了家连锁中餐馆
在俄勒冈州的皮斯河旁，
用的是走私名牌赚来的钱。
没有人会质疑他的品性
因为他的女儿们美丽、虔诚
他的儿子们聪明、勤劳
好像子女的孝心
是评价世间男人的专享标准。
哦，我们的女儿是多么守信，
我们的儿子是多么节俭！
我们是如何成功地愚弄
那些教育、统计和人口学的专家——
我们没有什么创造力，死记硬背才是我们的强项。
事实上，他们会利用我们。
“模范少数族裔”只是一个噱头。
我们知道你们监视着我们，
所以，我们拒绝泄露丝毫！
哦，竹笋，竹笋！
我们一直往西走，我们就会到达东方；
我们一直往下挖，我们就会找到中国。
历史把肚皮晾晒在
一片污浊的黑色海滩——
那里的生命不再依附于
那红红的独轮车①， ()
但是无论如何，我们的新情人
在“圣巴巴拉”的最后一集
将依靠在一支香薰蜡烛旁
叫我们“贱人”。
哦，上帝，我们哪儿做错了？
我们如今只剩下皮囊！
那天，一个芬芳的春天早晨
了不起的陈家大老爷
从他天国的亭子往下看
发现他的子孙相貌丑陋。
一个是国字脸，没有鼻梁。
另外一个——像个葫芦，又长又圆。
第三个，不仅粗鲁，还一脸苦相
可能永远都不会成家。
我，他最不喜欢的一个——
“既没有煮好，也没有烧好。”
一条圆鼓鼓的鲳鱼煨在我的的汤汁里——
无精打采，没法为自己的民族抗争。
谚语说，“没有抵抗的杀害不算是屠杀。”
于是，我等待着那日渐逼近的死亡。
所谓的死亡充满着隐喻意味
是对我冷漠的证明。
所以，这里躺着玛丽莲?陈美玲，
结过一两次婚，一个姓李，一个姓王，
是“大老爷”杰克
和郁郁寡欢的方穗琳的孙女，
是兰心蕙质的黄月坤
和臭名远扬的陈G. G的女儿，
有一打的姐妹，百万个表亲，
比谁都活得长，被谁都遗忘。
她既不黑也不白，
不被谁疼爱，也没被谁打败，
径自蹲在自己的竹林里
构思自己的诗歌——
当某天上苍不再仁慈，
她脚下的大地裂开个口子。
如同一头巨大白鲸的下巴，
或是超自然的哥斯拉的大嘴巴，
将她活活吞下。
她既不畏缩，也不苦恼，
更不会为来世而烦忧，
只是坚守着！如同木桩，满心欢喜，
被岁月啃噬，衣着褴褛，身心疲惫
皆因生活所赐
皆因生活所夺！
