“But it’s in Ba’s interest to keep Dagou in the business,” James says. “How can Ba keep up his share of the cooking when he gets old? It’ll have to be Dagou.”
“He’s not old yet. Just sixty-nine. Says he’s in his prime. No major health problems, and still full of beans.”
James struggles against his brother’s relentlessness. “Then Dagou should get out of town. Dagou must escape!”
“If you haven’t noticed,” Ming says, “Dagou’s not going anywhere.”
For several long minutes, James works on his breakfast. Ming isn’t eating anymore.
Fifty Million Dollars
“Three brothers,” Ming says. “All three intelligent, promising, and strong, but born into unspoken disadvantages. One: born to immigrant parents, newly arrived in a new country, with nothing but their foreign names; two: born Asians in a community of white Americans; three: born with strong Asian features, genetic markers of their nothingness, slant-eyed, yellow-skinned, gook-faced—”
“Ming,” James says. He speaks as gently as possible, because of the bitterness in his brother’s voice; and below the bitterness, the self-hatred and the torment.
“Let me finish. Four: born, moreover, to a singular man who is despised by the community. The other Chinese immigrants hate him because he’s depraved, unstable, a crook. The other business owners, mostly whites, hate him because they see him as a squalid laborer, an illiterate, a chink. And his white neighbors hate him because they think he’s a usurper, greedy, and a chink. They would consider him a criminal, too, if they paid him the slightest bit of attention, but they’ve already dismissed him as a buffoon.
“And yet, despite being born to this man, the three sons grow up with looks, intelligence, and charisma—all this because their father, despite being a bullying and unscrupulous man, possesses a mysterious and undeniable force of character.
“He’s a heathen. His long-suffering wife is a churchgoer—for years, she’s been desperately faithful, a believer of the miracles of the Gospels—but he believes in nothing but the urgency of his will, the superiority of his seed. Why be concerned about the afterlife when you have three sons? All physically intact, intelligent, ready to carry on your legacy, your blood, your name? Why believe in eternal life if you’re never going to die?
“Because he does not believe in death. Death for others, yes. But for himself? It’s not happening to him.” Ming glances up at James. “What?”
“Yes!” James exclaims, unable to take his eyes away from his brother. He envisions Ming presenting in a corporate boardroom, emanating all the strength, the gleam, of their father. He recalls Leo’s reassuring voice, I’m not going to die.
Ming goes on.
“The first son is raised to be the savior of the family: the bringer of justice, the righteous achiever who will justify each year of labor and sacrifice, the primary motive for their living in this isolated town, the sanctifier of their miserable marriage, the human answer to the questions waking them up in the night: Why am I here? Why am I required to speak a language that can express only a shadow of my intelligence? Why, asks the father, do I squander my natural gifts by feeding people who don’t appreciate the food? Or, in the case of the mother, why do I stay with this bully, why do I continue to have sex with this abominable man?
“And yet, despite this favoritism, perhaps because of it, the first son fails to thrive. He is a failure. In American terms, he has ‘character flaws.’ He ‘lacks initiative.’ He can’t ‘pull himself up by his bootstraps.’ In truth, it’s his parents who ruined him. He’s spoiled, raised by them as an emperor in a society to which he’s invisible. He hasn’t been brought up to know how to be invisible, he expects everyone to see him and adore him. And so when he comes of age, and is catapulted into American society, he falls back to earth, crawls home to live, not a king now that his inadequacies have been exposed, but a servant. Instead of a savior he becomes nothing more than a dog to kick around.”
Ming takes a deep breath.
“But this isn’t the story of the father or even of the first son, that dissolute failure, but of the second son. Perhaps because they are already disappointed, the parents overlook the qualities of the second son, who was born possessing intelligence, and above all, reason. This advantage, a brain, has been given to no one else in his family. The rest of the family is all spleen and heart and guts—but no brain.
“This second son has never been the favorite. He doesn’t own a single article of clothing that wasn’t once worn by his older brother. He isn’t given a single new toy. He’s left alone.
“He has a rich fantasy life, this second son. Having no advantages at school or at home, he develops his ability to dream: in classes, where he excels; between classes, when he is bullied in the halls; and after classes, on the bus. Especially on the bus, where no one will sit next to him, where he’s called names, and boys throw spitballs and worse at him, and girls giggle and hold their noses”—Ming mimics the gesture—“and enjoy watching this happen—on the bus, the second son envisions another self, impervious to all of this. Oh, he knows he’s alone and surrounded by jeering children. But in his imagination, he’s not being bullied. He’s watching. He can’t feel strangers’ fingers twist the corners of his eyes, mocking him. He’s invulnerable.
“In his mind, he stays on the bus as it goes past his house, past his neighborhood. The bus continues toward the edge of town, where the houses are larger and the cars sleeker. The second son imagines that the people he calls Ma and Ba are not his real parents. How could they be? Because in his heart of hearts he believes his real parents are white. They could be teachers, dentists, even mill workers. But they have craggy features, pink skin, and light eyes. They eat food as bland as their hair and skin color, and they gave birth to him, making him generic—this alone he desires, and wishes so much he believes it—possessing true potential, possessing the ability to truly become anyone and anything!
“Because America is not a democracy, it’s not a place of opportunity, he knows, if you can’t choose to be white. And because the second son despises these people he calls Ma and Ba, he doesn’t obey or honor them; he breaks a fundamental tenet of Confucianism and one of the commandments as well—and oh, he’s not so dumb, James, he knows this means he despises himself. Self-hatred is his meat and drink, self-hatred is the fuel of his emotional life, his life in the world, his soon-to-be adult life!