Actor and standup comedian Jimmy O. Yang finished his final sold-out show in Hong Kong last night, and wow, did he work up a crowd. There will be no spoilers in this post (don’t worry: the set will probably soon debut on a streaming platform near you), but what I can tell you is that his material was equal parts pee-your-pants comedy and warm-and-fuzzy HK nostalgia.
I could feel his deep love for Hong Kong in the way he talked about the city, and despite his show being unwaveringly hysterical, I couldn’t help but stealth-cry when he hit the final note of his gig with a karaoke rendition of Cantopop singer Hacken Lee’s 紅日 (Red Sun).
Oh, the memories! The yearning! The empathetic, honest portrayal of a city from one who’s had the privilege of being in the beating heart of it, but who can still distil its essence from an outsider’s point of view.
This show could have only been done by someone like Jimmy — and by that, I mean someone who was born in Hong Kong, who was fully immersed in this city during some of their formative years, and then, for a very Hong Kong reason, upped and moved with family to start life anew in a completely foreign city on a different continent thousands of miles away.
His story is a familiar one for the Hong Kong diaspora — I was one such kid myself, with a similar story arc, but instead of the US, my family settled in Canada.
Growing up this way, feeling Other is practically a core part of one’s identity.
As in: You kinda sorta know that you are a minority, a special case, in some way, shape or form (sometimes very literally) in the new country that your family decides to set roots in.
But you kinda sorta also know that you will just as likely be viewed as a minority in the city where you were born, by the mere fact of having moved out of it, and along the way perhaps even forgetting (or never learning) the language and the very culture that your family embodies.
For years, I myself struggled with this narrative, this feeling of belonging neither here nor there. Of having to decide whether to play up my Canadian-ness or my Hong Kong-ness, depending on the audience and the location.
For instance: It was much easier when I was in any city except for Hong Kong, to say that I was from Hong Kong — I’ve got the face to match the story, which certainly helps.
But when I was in Hong Kong (and I have relocated back to this city for many years now), my claim to the Hong Kong identity seemed to weaken. I no longer speak Cantonese fluently (although it was my mother tongue), I am not 100% Chinese-literate (although Chinese was the first language I learned to read), and I’m not always privy to all its nuances. Here, it was — ironically — much easier for me to say that I was Canadian.
The easiest solution to this dilemma is to just say that I am a Canadian Hongkonger, or a Chinese Canadian.
But these terms also imply Other. Am I not pure Canadian? Am I not pure Hongkonger? Am I a fraud when I say I’m either one?
The answer to all of these questions, of course, is no — but this hasn’t always been obvious. It took some time to get there.
Today, I have the benefit of experience and hindsight in understanding that people like Jimmy, people like me, are indeed a special breed: one that can bridge cultural gaps, that can see both sides of the story, and that can objectively and compassionately critique cultural mores from either side of the divide.
Crucially, we are also able to share these unique perspectives to foster greater understanding of all of our cultures. And the sum is always greater than its parts.
For the record, I love both my Canadian and Hong Kong identities, and I proudly showcase both when I can. I love to lean into my Canadian niceness and general class-unconsciousness, while also playing up my Hong Kong efficiency and no-nonsense directness.
After seeing Jimmy’s show tonight, this truth of the diaspora kid (or Third Culture kid, if you will), was reinforced to me all the more.
Jimmy understands Hong Kong from the inside (and on that note: we have the same pet chicken story — it must have been a very Hong Kong thing back in the day).
At the same time, Jimmy can also see Hong Kong crystal clear from the outside. He’s able to tell the city’s story through the lens of someone who has lived and breathed other equally beautiful cultural norms.
Jimmy’s able to describe Hong Kong not just from the Hong Kong perspective, but from multiple equally valid perspectives. He can genuinely critique the city or poke fun at some of its quirks, all without the disdain, arrogance, or hatred that could easily come with the territory. The critique comes from a place of love and understanding rather than cultural befuddlement.
He can do the very same thing with the US, where he is also able to bring both an insider and an outsider perspective. He can laugh at its absurdities while embracing its strengths. He knows what it means to be American — and also what it means to be American, to someone who is definitively not American.
Jimmy and his ilk are the peacemakers and bridge builders of the world. They can understand and appreciate all of the cultures that they have been exposed to throughout their lives — and what they can give back in return can easily end World Wars.
And that is one helluva superpower.