Growing up in Canada in the 1980s as a Canadian-Born Chinese person has been quite the adventure for me. My fellow "banana" comrades and I can say that life has definitely been very interesting, and many times very comical, as we were raised having to face the conflicting values that arose out of living our Chinese heritage in our Canadian society. You see, "banana" is a term used to describe a "CBC"; someone who is Chinese on the outside, but is Canadian on the inside.

I spent nine of my 12 years of public schooling in the French-English Bilingual school system in Alberta. My mother believed that fluency in French and English, or else known as Canada's official languages, would greatly open up our future to greater chances and opportunities in our country. Having to do the majority of my homework in French and having to communicate with my little friends in English left little time to learn Cantonese. This was compounded by the fact that French-English schools had a very small percentage of Asian students; thus, there was limited exposure to Chinese culture.

I often wondered if this "amalgamation" of languages ever affected my speech as a child. My suspicions were confirmed when Kyle, my Caucasian childhood friend, told me recently that when we were young, he always noticed that I spoke both French and English with a curious Chinese "twist" that was not strong, but enough to be distinctive.

I would say that most Canadian-born Chinese kids believed they grew up in the 1980s just like any other Canadian kid; brazing the cold, chilly winters in our puffy snowsuits, having to wait for the school bus in blizzard conditions, dreaming about playing hockey... However, you did not fully realize the differences by the way you were brought up until you reached your teenage; the time of your life when you seek to find your individual identity. It is at this age when you start to realize that your other Canadian friends did not get the much-feared Tung tew?or Gai Mow Soh?when they were bad. You begin to realize that the other kids did not have wear the ultimate snowsuit, Chinese-style, complete with an undershirt, three sweaters, a ski jacket, and the oh-so-not-cool long johns under a jogging suit and snow-pants. (I remember my long johns had flowers because my mother got some in a 2 for 1 sale in the girl's section at Zellers). It is also the time when you were allowed to go out on your own, and you had to face one of the biggest barriers faced by any CBC: communicating in Chinese and worse, without the parents around.

All people run into communication problems everyday, but Canadian kids born of immigrant parents have it more difficult in that failure in communicating in their "native" language is accompanied with a sense of guilt and shame. Whenever I am conver-sing in Cantonese, I always feel terribly self-conscious, and I am really scared to speak loudly to the person I'm talking to. I am always worried that I am not using the correct grammar or the correct tone, and that the person I'm talking to will not understand. If you are a CBC like me, these know that these feelings always arise whenever you "try" to order food at Chinese restaurants or when you "try" to buy items at Asian kiosks around town.

I am sure that as a CBC, you have been in a situation where you are at a Chinese restaurant, and you are seated comfortably with your tea. You are given your bilingual menu, but you read the English portion of the menu because you cannot read Chinese letters. You often try to find that one authentic dish that your mother ordered the last time you were there but since you can't read Chinese, you cannot find your desired dish. On top of that, you cannot order any dinner specials because they are all written in Chinese on posters on the wall. Thus, you have to resort to default foods: "Gone Chow Ow haw", "Sing Jao Chow Mai", and "Ow yok chow mein".

Now the real pain for a CBC occurs when it is time to order food because you actually have to make "contact". I have to say that I usually prepare my "Chinese," and I practice what I am going to say. When the waiter finally comes, I have usually mustered enough confidence to order my dishes in Chinese, and I am quite proud of myself when I finish my order. However, in most cases, the waiter did not hear a thing because I have spoken too softly, and the Chinese restaurant is too noisy. At this point, I have misinterpreted the waiter's reaction as confusion; thus, I have to order through a series of "Chin-glish" words and pointing actions. You know you have lost your battle when you finally have to resort to pointing.

Now because I've led such a sheltered life in my Asian home, going out was always one big adventure for me because I was not in the eyes of "The Mom". I was free to roam the streets of Chinatown in my black, Club Monaco clothes with all my other dark-clothes- wearing, CBC buddies eating at small wonton mein restaurants and sipping on bubble tea.

However, my CBC friends and I were always very cautious because we knew mom's spies were always around the corner: the "aunties" were always watching. You see, I always feared the "aunties" because they always came with an element of surprise. You'd be walking down the street all confident, cool and obnoxious when out of nowhere, you realize an "auntie" has spotted you. You start to panic, and the first thing you want to do is hide, but you know it's too late. You have to change your walk and your comportment; but worse of all, you have to talk to her. Quickly, you think up something fast to say, and you manage simple such as, "Hello Auntie, how are you?" Even though you want to leave as soon as possible and you know you're being evaluated, you cannot leave until she is satisfied. You just hope she tells your mother good things about you.

Growing up as a CBC has definitely been quite the adventure for me. I have accumulated rich memories and experiences that I would never trade for anything as they have shaped the person I am now. I would say most Canadian-born Chinese people would agree that living a life in between two cultures has definitely opened our eyes and our minds, and it has made us much richer in spirit.