Jing-mei

So maybe I never really gave myself a fair chance. I did pick up the basics pretty quickly, and I might have become a good pianist at that young age. But I was so determined not to try, not to be anybody different that I learned to play only the most ear-splitting preludes, the most discordant hymns.

As an adult, Jing-mei realizes that she did in fact have a natural talent for the piano as a child, but at that point she was already so determined that her disobedience must coincide with her individuality that she thwarted her own potential. Determination to fail merges with her identity and follows her into adulthood as she squashes her abilities. In her mind, her failures are the only thing within her own control, and they define her until she begins to discover who she really is. 

It was enough that she had offered it to me. And after that, every time I saw it in my parents’ living room, standing in front of the bay windows, it made me feel proud, as if it were a shiny trophy I had won back.

Once Jing-mei becomes an adult, she begins to understand herself and her mother. The piano holds painful memories for her, but as an adult she can see that her mother never lost hope as she’d feared. With this realization, Jing-mei can come to terms with her past and discover that she is both the “Pleading Child” and “Perfectly Contented.” She can now cherish the hope instead of being defined by her hatred of it.

Jing-mei's Mother

America was where all my mother’s hopes lay. She had come here in 1949 after losing everything in China: her mother and father, her family home, her first husband, and two daughters, twin baby girls. But she never looked back with regret. There were so many ways for things to get better.

Though these lines are narrated by Jing-mei, they reveal foundational details about her mother from her own perspective. Jing-mei’s mother’s expectations and optimism for Jing-mei’s future allow her to survive through the trauma of losing everything, but they also prevent her from dealing with and healing from her losses. This blockage causes her trauma to spill over to her daughter as she places the weight of everything she lost and hopes to gain on Jing-mei’s shoulders. This information is critical in understanding Jing-mei’s mother’s character and the reasons why she pushes her daughter so hard. 

‘You pick up fast,’ said my mother, as if she knew this was certain. ‘You have natural talent. You could been genius if you want to.’ 

‘No I couldn’t.’ 

‘You just not trying,’ said my mother. And she was neither angry nor sad. She said it as if to announce a fact that could never be disproved. ‘Take it,’ she said.

Jing-mei’s mother opens this dialogue when she offers Jing-mei the piano on her thirtieth birthday. The gift is a sign that she never gave up hope in her daughter, and it shows her strength and motherly love even in the face of their ongoing conflict. Despite her humiliation at the talent show, Jing-mei’s mother sees that her daughter does indeed have a natural talent for the piano. She also realizes that she pushed her daughter too hard as a child. As she echoes the words she spoke to Jing-mei throughout childhood, Jing-mei’s mother’s attitude is now softer and signals forgiveness for her daughter’s stubborn rebellion.