Stay True: A Memoir

Chapter 5 explores the theme of Friendship through the lens of gift giving and reciprocity. Hua describes himself as “an absolute baby about presents” (87), particularly those he deemed “insufficiently thoughtful” (87). For Hua, a thoughtful gift is evidence of being known, while the opposite is true of thoughtless gifts. Thus, Ken giving Hua a modernist clock that was “cool in a way that felt inspirational and grown up” (88) symbolized the strength of their bond, while the pager friends bought him on a different occasion was “a constant reminder of how misunderstood” he felt.

Hua inflects his discussion of gift giving with the work of the French sociologist, Marcel Mauss. In contrast to earlier theorists, who argued that gift exchange was essentially transactional, Mauss’s “Essay on the Gift” (1923) focused on how feelings of indebtedness function by introducing the concept of delayed reciprocity. As Hua explains, delay reciprocity is central to relationships: “You give expecting to receive. Yet we often give and receive according to intermittent, sometimes random intervals. That time lag is where a relationship emerges” (93). In addition to serving political ends, then, giving also strengthens the bonds between individuals and communities: “Every gesture carries a desire for connection, expanding one’s ring of associations” (94). This emphasis on connection and reciprocity is at the core of Hua’s notion of friendship. Indeed, Ken gave as much to Hua as Hua gave to Ken, which strengthened their bond:

Everybody likes something—a song, a movie, a TV show—so you choose not to; this is how you carve out space for yourself. But the right person persuades you to try it, and you feel as though you’ve made two discoveries. One is that this thing isn’t so bad. The other is a new confidant (85).

In addition to reciprocity, Hua’s friendship with Ken revolved around the mundane: “I loved walking with him. A mismatched pair moving through the world. We noticed the same things, taking in the small moments of everyday beauty and weirdness” (85). Indeed, Hua devotes much of his memoir to the small moments at the core of his relationship with Ken, describing long drives, listening to music, study sessions, and smoke breaks with exacting detail. However, Hua not only questioned the value of these moments, but also felt guilty that his friendships weren’t more exciting:

I always felt as if my friends were sacrificing something by spending their precious Friday or Saturday nights [surfing the internet]. More often than not, I was at my computer anyway. But they could have all been out getting drunk, meeting girls, acting reckless. Instead, they were huddled around my computer, trash-talking strangers, and listening to my records (95).

Chapter 5 revisits the theme of Asian American Identity. During his junior year, Hua shifted his focus from political science to ethnic and Asian studies, and he began volunteering with the Richmond Youth Project. Coursework familiarized him with the Southeast Asian diaspora, notably, the Mien, the ethnic minority with whom he volunteered. Hua recognized that life for his mentees was unlike his middle-class reality, yet aspects of their lives felt familiar to him: “Their parents were busy working as many jobs as they could, and whatever connection they maintained to the past had more to do with household tradition than politics” (91). Working with Asian Americans mattered to Hua, even as he problematized the construct:

To me, Asian American was a messy, arbitrary category, but one that was produced by a collective struggle […] There were similarities that cut across nationality and class: the uncommunicative parents, the cultural significance of food, the fact that we all took our shoes off at home (91).

Hua wanted to foster a sense of community for his mentees and instill in them a sense of Asian pride. His mentees, however, were largely unreceptive to his efforts, viewing him not as an ally, but an outsider: “As a Taiwanese American whose parents came decades earlier for grad school, I might as well have been from Mars” (91).

The Last Dragon, a film Hua watched during his visit to Ken’s parents’ home in Southern California, provides another point of entry into the topic of Asian identity. The protagonist is a Black martial artist who is deeply confused about his identity. His quest for “the Glow,” a mystical energy reserved for the greatest martial artists, leads him to question his Blackness, but also takes him on a spiritual journey through New York’s Chinatown. Chinese characters mock the protagonist’s kung fu fetish and accent in a manner that recalls blaxploitation films (low-budget movies made primarily for Black audiences in the 1970s). As Hua observes, the characters were playing the wrong stereotypes. The Last Dragon enthralled Hua and Ken, largely because of its treatment of identity: “The film recognized something about being Asian American, even if that wasn’t its core intention” (99). Moreover, Hua and Ken were thrilled to see Asian actors in non-traditional roles, especially after their experience with the casting director of The Real World.