Things My Parents Neglected to Teach Me

When I was eleven or twelve years old, going through the stages of shaping my identity, a thought occurred to me that the things I "knew" at that moment would be lost on me with time. No longer would I relate to or acknowledge the subtle nuances of adolescence once it ended. I wanted to start a diary for myself, dedicate it to the future me, and write down everything I was sure I'd forget once I reached adulthood: that 12 year olds are smarter than they seem, that parents don't always know everything, that love is the ultimate good. Revelations and epiphanies were to be concealed in this holy grail of all that is known to a teenager, and I was to keep it safe and sacred, so that by the time I had my own teens, I wouldn't have lost touch with that version of myself.

I didn't start the diary. I was too afraid and embarassed at the prospect that it might be discovered, and that I would be found out to be a sham. All of the things I claimed to know would be revealed to be intricate workings of a mind that was somehow void of thinking, and the ramblings that I'd mistaken as pseudo-intellectual and/or statements of truth would be seen for the garbage that they are. Worse, if by some stroke of luck it was discovered that my mind truly had something to offer, I was well aware that my parents would no longer be able to guide me; their limitations (financial, emotional, physical, etc.) would render them powerless to control my development in any way.

As much as I clamoured to be my own person, I grew up humble and obedient. I was a straight-A student; I knew how to adhere to the rules just enough to be praised by people in positions of power. More than that, I knew that being female and Asian meant that there was already a certain stigma of me; I was seen as quiet and submissive, easily swayed one way or the other. If I figured out what I wanted and made people believe that it was their idea to follow through with my own goals, everyone won: my aim was reached, and the pride of people who made it happen was not spared.

To this day, I realize that I do this very often: I am quiet in a crowd, (not nearly as loud as I used to be back in my adolescent days), and whenever someone in the crowd makes a decision that I benefit from, I know that I've influenced it in some way. This power trip is pivotal to my personality, and yet all those years ago, I have a feeling that I would've put into my diary, "Don't try to exert too much power on people. You'll only waste your time."