My Mother Was A Thief - Part 1
A Graphic and Audio Story
The comic graphics in this post are created by author and illustrator Pan Cooke, who shares my passion for racial and social justice.
And here is a The Nocturnists podcast episode of my live performance of this epic story … the comedy version🤣.
My Chinese name means "the offspring of our dreams." -- a typical One-Child Policy era (China, 1980-2013) big name. This dream was vetoed by the doctors shortly after I was born when they (mis)diagnosed me with “brain damage.”
"What does that mean?" My mother, who never finished middle school, asked those in white coats.
"That means she will be stupid." The doctor said.
Factual. Definitive.
No one ever told me the details of that fateful discussion following the “stupidity” diagnosis. And I suspect my mother doesn't know, either. As a newly postpartum woman in the late 1980s in China, she was kept in the dark about many family decisions. And the decision to have her baby given up for adoption certainly didn’t require her consent.
I have, however, imagined many versions of it. In one of them, everyone cried, agonizing over the decision to let me go. "We only have one chance of rising above poverty. If this child can't live up to our dreams, we have no choice but to give her up.” In another version, everyone just waved their hands and said: "Meh, will try again later."
The truth was probably somewhere in between, as truth always is.
Whatever it might have been, a few weeks new into the world, I found myself in a locked-down adoption unit, among many other brain-damaged, “stupid” babies.
Hopeless. Unworthy. Given up on.
If the night when my mother stole me out of the adoption unit would be made into a Kung Fu movie, her character would be played by the Oscar-winning Michelle Yeoh.
She would dress in ancient Chinese heroine style and enter the scene as a sword-carrying boss woman. With a tap of her toes, she would fly over the walls and land on the enemy's side of the evil castle without making a sound.
And yes, she would be ready to fight.
The heroine defeats the evil medicine men and takes back what’s hers. From then on, it would be her baby and her against the world — how’s that for a Mother’s Day blockbuster?
In reality, she was probably bleeding from both her womb and her heart when she climbed over the walls of the adoption facility to get to me. It must have been messy, clumsy, and NOT glorified. She was most likely scared, fighting back tears (or crying), and unsure of what she was doing or what might happen next.
But that was not the version of the story she chose to tell me. And I have full intention to believe what she says.
I’ve always believed her.
My mother was athletic. 5 foot 7, she was considered tall by Chinese standards at the time. So much so she was selected for the volleyball team. She made it all the way to the municipal team and went on to win many gold medals for the city of Beijing.
But the real reason why she was so valued on the team was her determination to get whatever she set her mind to. “Once, I wanted to go with the team to another country for a competition but wasn’t selected for some trivial reason. So I sat in the middle of the volleyball court under the brutal sun for hours to protest. The coach threw a ball at me and made my nose bleed.”
She didn’t budge.
“I let the blood stain my face and my shirt.”
Finally, they let my mother go. She played like a mad woman in the competition and helped Beijing win the championship.
When my mother told me this story, I could see her young, chubby face with short, dark hair and her squinting eyes under the poisonous sun. I almost felt the fume coming out of her and tasted the blood in my mouth during this silent protest. I was so angry on her behalf.
“After I climbed over the wall, I still had to find the room where they kept you. It was very dark in the hallways.” She said.
“Then I heard a baby cry, and I knew it was you. You heard my footsteps and you recognized me. So you called for me.”
It was her footsteps.
And my cry for her.
Factual. Definitive.
Until the police caught her…
________________________________
In November 2023, I went on stage to perform this story live through The Nocturnists podcast and Bellevue Literary Review. And I mean PERFORM! I acted out my mother’s imaginary kung-fu moves and the audience rolled in their seats laughing. 😅 Please enjoy my stand-up comedy debut on The Nocturnists stage🤣:
__________________________
Wow 😳