Chapter 1: So What is Chinese New Year?
As a little girl growing up in rural Illinois, I did not know many Asian people, let alone Chinese people. There was the very nice Korean family who owned the restaurant in town, and sometimes my dad would bring us to eat there on Sundays after church.
I only got to know Chinese people when I first moved to Chicago for college. It was a real culture shock for me, going from a small town with an almost all-white population where everyone knew each other to a huge city with millions of people. And the diversity in Chicago! I saw black people, Asian people, Hispanic people and there was even a Native American girl in my freshman English class.
My roommate was a girl from Shanghai named An Qi. At first she was very quiet and kept to herself, always shaking her head when I'd ask her if she wanted to go with me to a party, or to hang out at one of the many cafes and sandwich shops on campus. An Qi was very studious, her head always buried in her books and notes. I admired her work ethic, but felt very distant from her even though she was only sleeping fifteen feet apart from me every night.
One thing I noticed about An Qi was how often she'd call her family. She seemed to make video calls on a daily basis, which made me wonder if my own weekly phone call to my folks back in Peoria were sufficient. An Qi seemed happy to chatter on with a multitude of people on her video screen: a middle-aged couple whom I assumed were her parents, two younger boys, and several friends. An Qi had asked me once, in halting English, whether I'd minded her calls. I told her I didn't mind as long as I had my noise-cancelling headphones on.
Another thing I noticed was that An Qi didn't really seem to care or have somewhere to go to whenever Thanksgiving or Christmas rolled around. My mom had insisted that I ask her to follow me home as a guest, but she had declined politely during our first year as roommates. However, An Qi did seem extra sad and lonely whenever January and February rolled around. She kept even more to herself, to the point where our RA, Taylor, asked me to check with her to see if she was all right. Everyone was still a bit antsy after the suicide case in Rutford Hall last year.
One day, I spotted An Qi crying in bed when I came back from the shower. "Hey, what's wrong?" I asked her gently, tossing my clothes and towel onto the hamper before I came to sit on the edge of her bed. "Talk to me, hon."
"You won't understand," she murmured, tucking her face against her damp pillow. "It's Chinese New Year. And I can't be with my family."
I bit my lip, unsure about the significance. "So...is it like Christmas? And you can't be home for the holidays?" I ventured.
An Qi nodded, fresh tears springing to her eyes. Getting up, I went to fetch her a box of Kleenex and a wastepaper basket. She accepted the tissues gratefully, blowing her nose.
Then she began telling me all about Chinese New Year.