Sherry Zhang shares what it means for her to be part of an anthology of Asian writing.
In A Clear Dawn: New Asian Voices from Aotearoa New Zealand, the first-ever anthology of its kind, editors Paula Morris and Alison Wong note that the word "Asian" contains a large, complex anddiverse world. They discuss prejudice and racism many Asians face here, and ask: "When will they be seen and accepted as New Zealanders? When will they not be perceived as a threat to whatever is understood to be New Zealand's national identity?"
"They" are the terrifying influx of Asians growing since the mid-19th century, now making up around 15 per cent of New Zealand's total population. "They" includes me, a first-generation Chinese-New Zealander, born in Middlemore Hospital, whose parents migrated to Tāmaki Makaurau in the 90s from Fujian, China.
We have always been writers, artists and creatives, yet why are we so poorly represented in literary circles? The recent surge in the last few years does not undo decades of invisibility from Asian voices.
Writers in this anthology have multiple national and ethnic affiliations; some have been in New Zealand for generations and some are more recent arrivals. As the editors stress, there is no singular way of "being Asian".
We are tied together by common ancestors, our love of fragrant foods and loneliness in foreign places, including New Zealand and beyond. But we can also feel disjointed, distanced from our roots, stripped of our mother tongues. We can hold trauma within our cultural, ethnic and political identity. And we can be rejected by our own communities because of our gender, sexuality, mixed heritage, neuro-diversity or accessibility needs.
For some of us in A Clear Dawn, we're being published in print for the first time. To see our words in a book validates our writing and our existence. Reading the anthology, I was constantly writing down the names of new writers I've fallen in love with, like Luo Hui and Manisha Anjali. I want their lines etched into my brain, so I write them on Post-It notes and stick them on my bedroom wall.
There are unfamiliar moments, odd and unnerving that I dog-ear to circle back to. There are familiar moments when I see my Ah Ma. It makes me pause on the bus. Breathe. And hold back tears.
There are unfamiliar words I'm highlighting, of villages, communities and families different to mine. I will ask my friends how I can learn more, and if they're happy to share more of their roots with me.
And there are unfamiliar lines in my own mother tongue I need help to understand. While translations are offered, I want to hear the tones read by my parents. But maybe I need to learn to sit with the unknowing and the secrets that lie for readers who know the stories in their bones.
In the book's introduction, homage is paid to the Asian writers who paved the way for us, including Lynda Chanwai-Earle, whose poetry I studied at university, and Helene Wong, whose memoir I shelved at the bookstore I worked at in high school. Within the collection, there are numerous Asian writers who should become household names, contemporary powerhouses like Nina Mingya Powles, Rose Lu, Tze Ming Mok, Chris Tse, Gregory Kan, Sharon Lam and Vanessa Mei Crofskey.
I'm a 22-year-old who's yet to finish her degree, with a few scrappy pieces floating around the internet. My surname means chapter, page, movement in a symphony; and I've always been writing: from epic novels about mermaids when I was 5, competing in angsty spoken word slams in my teenage years, to working as a journalism intern at The Spinoff and currently co-writing a play for Auckland Theatre Company's Here & Now festival. I'm also a law student, a sometimes actor, often doubting my legitimacy in creative spaces. Not so much now. But imposter syndrome hits harder when there's less representation.
My poem, I cannot write a poem about China, is the final piece in A Clear Dawn. It started as a series of angry scribblings on scraps of refill I brought to Michele Leggott's poetry class at the University of Auckland. We were studying Tusiata Avia's, I cannot write a poem about Gaza, and I felt as though someone finally understood the tension and contradictions I held in my brain. Questions around my own legitimacy in writing about China's politics.
A Clear Dawn: New Asian Voices from Aotearoa New Zealand
I'm still trying to figure out my relationship with being Chinese as a New Zealander. I don't imagine there is a simple answer. But I feel hopeful in the conversations happening within our community. I see this anthology as a way to reflect, stimulate and carry on the korero. Some of the work by the 75 contributors — poets, fiction and non-fiction writers — doesn't shy away from holding our own community to account.
I hope when others read it, they'll walk away challenged about their preconceptions of the "Asian Invasion." I wish I had this anthology when I was younger, because I felt lonely growing up as an Asian writer in New Zealand. But it's here now, and I am excited for what's to come.
