Amid a backdrop of political uncertainty and rising xenophobia, E&M editor Alberto Méndez contacts German-Vietnamese psychologist and graphic designer Phong Cao. Invited to reflect on his complex identity, Cao shares one of his most intimate accounts. Please find his words below.

For a long time I had difficulties answering the question of whether I am German or Vietnamese. I was born in Saxony and spent my childhood in a refugee home in rural East Germany. I did not speak a word of German before going to kindergarten. There is an anecdote from that time my mother loves to retell: It happened to be my birthday a few days after I had just joined kindergarten. Of course, this had to be celebrated in typical kindergarten tradition. Too bad I didn’t know any of them – on old VHS tapes you can see me all confused being blindfolded and given a wooden spoon. Topfschlagen is a German game for children. The aim is to find candy hidden under a pot while crawling blindfolded on the floor. A bunch of children will sit in a circle and chant “hot” or “cold” depending on how close you are to hitting the target with the wooden spoon. If this sounds foreign to you, imagine being a 5-year-old Asian kid who didn’t even get the instructions. A hilarious culture shock.

 

 

I experienced my second culture shock at the age of 9 when I visited Vietnam for the first time and encountered child poverty. I saw homeless kids on the street who were my age and looked like me. They sold lottery tickets to passersby, amidst a dusty concrete jungle, along an endless river of constantly honking motorcycles. I didn’t know any of these things from my German small-town life. I visited Vietnam a few more times in the course of my adolescence and kept feeling like an alien. My parents would call it “returning home” every time we went, but it continued to feel like a foreign place to me.

“This must be because Germany is my home” I concluded. But there were doubts. I was called “ching chang chong” on the regular by kids on the street. Furthermore, rightwing rallies in my hometown were part of my everyday life and made it more than clear that people like me don’t belong and aren’t welcome.

 

“I felt the necessity to pick a side amidst the clash of cultures.“.

 

This hostility peaked when me and my family were attacked in our own home by a group of neo-Nazis in 2007 (reports from Spiegel, ZEIT, FAZ). We had just moved in when a hateful mob violently broke into our apartment. “Fuck off to where you came from, dirty gooks” they yelled, before continuing to attack and spit on my dad who tried to hold them back. I was punched in the face in an attempt to call the police on my phone. My 9-year-old sister escaped the apartment to call for help. The police arrived, but all they did was sending the assailants back to their apartment (next-door) and leave again. A now broken door was the only thing separating us from the attackers. The officers had left us to our devices. As foreseeable, we were attacked a second time right away. We called the police again, but once again nobody was detained, and we were merely given empty words of appeasement. We decided to spend the night on chairs in our restaurant. When we returned the next day, our apartment was robbed, trashed and reeked of urine. After our formal report to the police station, the failure of the officers was exposed. The only consequences they faced though, was relocation.

These experiences leave a mark on you, but nonetheless it did not solve my ongoing identity crisis. Obviously, I did not belong here, as attacks like these made it clear. But on the other hand, as the years went by, I felt more and more alienated from my Vietnamese family, not sharing their strict, Confucianist values of authority, discipline and tradition. I felt the necessity to pick a side amidst the clash of cultures. Ultimately, I decided I want to be more German. It went as far as me avoiding to be publicly seen hanging out with other Asians, worried of giving the impression of being unintegrated.

 

 

When I turned 18, I finally acquired German citizenship. German laws also offered me the opportunity to not just adapt my citizenship but also change my legal name in the process. I was very excited about finally being able to give up my name that nobody knew how to pronounce and change it into something western, just like famous Asian American actors. I chose the most traditional, German I could think of and decided to officially put “Matthias” on my ID. I wanted to fit in and be like everyone else around me so badly. I wanted people to stop asking me where I’m really from or how come I speak German so well. It felt strange to be called “Matze” although it was accompanied by a certain sense of satisfaction every time I was met with a baffled face when introducing myself. I quickly noticed though, that a new name did not change anything, except for higher response rates when applying for jobs or renting apartments.

For years, searching for identity continued to feel like trying to hit the pot while blindfolded on my first day of kindergarten. Today I know that I do not have to pick a side, that identity is not a vessel (or pot) that only fits one unit. I am Vietnamese, I am German, I am European – rightwing extremists do not get to define that. I have come to comprehend that nationality and ethnicity are two different things. You can be named Linh, Okan or Pavel and also be German at the same time. What makes you German is not your name, but a constant urge to air a room even in freezing temperature, an obsession with sparkling water and yearning for German bread variety when abroad.

 

 

Pictures and text by Phong Cao.

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    Alberto Méndez

    Editor & Author

    Global nomad from Barcelona. Advertising, Marketing & PR grad fascinated by culture, sociology, art and media. After having specialised in Marketing and Management within the Music Industry, Alberto is currently working as a brand manager assistant for a creative hub where record label-bureocracy, audiovisual production and fashion brands meet.

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