to fight for your place in the world
journal entry 10.23.25
When I was young, maybe 9 or 10, my dad got laid off from his job. He was an Asian man — Chinese — immigrated to the states, with trouble communicating, and his bosses had no clue how vital he was to the operation. So he wrote them a letter explaining his involvement and he got the job back.
I think so, at least. I don’t remember too clearly.
Anyway, that wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into career trouble. My father had, in addition to the language barrier, very low EQ. When he was young, walking home from school one day, he’d picked up a neat looking rock and tossed it into a nearby pond. The rock must have contained significant levels of alkali or alkaline earth metal — the most reactive elemental groups — because the resulting explosion blew out his left eardrum and left him half deaf for life.
It must have impaired his ability to connect. Growing up, my sister and I had to talk into his other ear. And when he couldn’t hear or understand clearly, he wouldn’t even bother asking us to clarify — he would just smile a dumb, oafish smile.
So his bosses probably thought he was daft. So he had trouble holding jobs; so he was always passed over for promotions. The man could not communicate! He stood no chance.
But that one time when I was 9 or 10… he fought for his job. He knew it wasn’t right that he was let go. He fought for it and I think he got it back. I hope so. I don’t remember.
I haven’t talked to him in years. We have a conflicted relationship. But I remember one time he told me I had what he was missing — I could communicate, I could connect. He told me I would go places he never could.
My father — my dad — has his weaknesses. He’s lived with them his whole life. But he fought, hard, for his place in this country, to give his children a life he never had. He taught me that when all the odds are against you… when you feel you’ve been pushed out of your place for all the wrong reasons…
To fight. Fight. Don’t give up. Fight.