No Gold Mountain

By Derrick Lin / Winter 2023

As I journeyed from China to the United States, my mind has blossomed in ways I never could have imagined. The allure of the American Dream promised a life filled with possibilities and the freedom outlined in the Bill of Rights has awakened my sense of independence. The vast knowledge and diverse culture surrounding me both exhilarated and intimidated my sixteen-year-old heart. As I set foot on the soil my ancestors called “The Gold Mountain,” my mind raced with the endless opportunities that lay ahead. But after eight years of living here with my family, I've come to realize that the path to achieving those dreams is not an easy one for immigrants like us. We face countless challenges along the way, and the road ahead is uncertain.

My parents' hard work in China is a testament to their resilience, despite not being able to attend college due to various reasons. They've always strived to provide a normal life for my sister and me. My father's opportunity in the construction industry led him to master operating an excavator, which he studied fervently every night. I still remember him poring over a thick book about excavators, in front of a glass tank of fish he insisted on raising. Perhaps, he longed to be like those fish, living a worry-free life in a peaceful environment. Through bitter winters and grueling work schedules, my father would wake up early, hop on his motorcycle, and drive out of town to the construction site. Meanwhile, my mother worked tirelessly in a low-wage job until she quit to take care of us. Our family's financial status remains humble, and we are not wealthy by any means.

At the tender age of 16, I embarked on a journey that would forever change my life. Upon arriving in the United States, I was awestruck by the towering buildings and the vast freeway systems that I had never laid eyes on before in China. California's clear blue skies and radiant sun, in stark contrast to my hometown, left an indelible impression on me. On that fateful day, two of my uncles picked us up from the San Francisco airport and chauffeured us to the location where my family and two other families of my fathers' were to settle down for the next couple of years. The cool air from the air conditioner during that September drive was a welcomed relief as we made our way to my aunt's house, where we were to rent a separate portion. Our relatives came together for a celebratory dinner in our honor, and I distinctly remember savoring my first taste of McDonald's chicken nuggets and KFC fried chicken - an indulgent and quintessentially American treat.

As I bit into the crispy-skinned fried chicken, my mouth filled with the taste of plain white meat, lacking any depth of flavor compared to the chickens back in China. In my home country, chickens roamed freely every day, enjoying their lives until the day they reached maturity. However, in the United States, I learned that chickens were raised in cages and deprived of their freedom. Suddenly, I felt like the chicken - confined and trapped within a restricted space - and I realized that I too might spend some time in a cage.

After that celebratory night, we settled into our new living arrangements - a separate part of the house with two bedrooms and one bathroom. I was assigned one of the upper beds among the four in the room. Our mothers remained in China, while my father and his brothers journeyed to America in search of the fabled "Gold Mountain" spoken of by many. Living under the same roof with three families was a challenging adjustment. My life mirrored that of Maya Angelou's "Caged Bird," as my professor had once taught in class. I felt trapped by policies and a harsh environment, yearning to be free and live in nature. In addition to attending beginning English courses and keeping up with school, I had to help with household chores, cook, and take care of younger cousins while the adults worked tirelessly outside.       

The New Gilded Age we find ourselves in today bears a striking resemblance to the Gilded Age of the past, as my professor had taught us in class. As we discussed the living conditions of Chinese immigrants during that time, a picture from the slide deeply touched my heart. It wasn't because they were Chinese immigrants, but rather because of the unimaginable conditions they were living in. The picture painted a vivid picture of their daily lives and the harsh reality they had to endure.

The photograph was black and white, but even without color, one could sense the gloominess of the place. The room was pitch-black with no lights or windows to allow even a glimmer of sunlight. It was hard to imagine how they could have navigated their way around in the darkness. A bowl sat on the table, which was falling apart, and it was evident that they used it as a makeshift toilet. The floor was filthy, and it seemed like it had never been cleaned. Clothes hung all over the walls, and they were torn and dirty.

Looking back on that picture, I realized how fortunate I am to have a decent living condition. I may not live in luxury, but I have access to basic amenities like a window that lets in light and fresh air. It's a stark reminder of how far we've come as a society and how much more we need to do to ensure that everyone has access to basic human necessities.

The tenements during the Gilded Age were a reflection of the social inequality and economic disparity of that time. It was an era where the rich were getting richer, and the poor were getting poorer. Many immigrants came to America in search of the American Dream, but instead, they were faced with unimaginable hardship and poverty. These tenements were overcrowded, and families had to share cramped spaces, which often led to unsanitary conditions and the spread of diseases.

Takaki's book, A Different Mirror, provided me with a deeply personal account of my own journey as an immigrant in the United States, particularly as a member of the Chinese community. Upon my arrival, I was unaware of the high costs associated with the immigrant experience and the challenges that lay ahead. Reading Takaki's work allowed me to reflect on my own experiences and gain a greater understanding of the struggles faced by those who came before me.

Takaki described how Chinese immigrants were initially welcomed to the United States as cheap labor for the construction of the transcontinental railroad in the mid-19th century. However, once the railroad was completed, the Chinese were no longer needed and faced increasing hostility from white Americans. This led to the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882, which prohibited the immigration of Chinese laborers and effectively made it impossible for Chinese immigrants to bring their families to the United States. As a result, many Chinese immigrants were forced to live in crowded and unsanitary conditions in urban tenements, where they faced discrimination and violence from their white neighbors. Takaki described how Chinese immigrants were often relegated to the lowest-paying jobs and faced discrimination in housing, education, and even in death, as many were denied burial in white-owned cemeteries.  

I am filled with gratitude towards the previous generations of immigrants who paved the way for newer generations by sacrificing their own comfort, freedom, and working tirelessly to create a better life in the United States. Their dedication to their families, strong moral character, and hard work have left a powerful legacy that I am incredibly proud of. Their example served as a valuable lesson to guide my life and to continue moving forward, even when faced with difficult challenges.

Without their sacrifices and tireless efforts, I would not have known how to survive in this system. Their resilience and determination provided us with a foundation to build upon, and their legacy continues to inspire us to work hard and pursue our dreams.

I am proud to have been a part of their legacy and to be a part of this great nation where diversity and hard work are celebrated and rewarded. It was a privilege to call myself an immigrant, and I was grateful for all that the previous generations had done to make it possible.

For my family, the American dream had always been about owning our own home. We worked hard and sacrificed for six long years, and finally, we were able to scrape together enough money for a down payment on a small house. The feeling of relief and satisfaction was immense, and we were excited to finally have a place to call our own.

However, our happiness was short-lived. The cost of labor for fixing up and decorating our new home was exorbitant, and my dad, who had been a skilled excavator in China, was unable to find work in the United States due to his lack of English proficiency. Instead, he had to settle for working as a house builder with some of our relatives, but the work was grueling and often left him exhausted and unhappy.

Despite our newfound ownership of a home, my dad was still tied to his job in order to pay off the debt we owed to the bank. He couldn't afford to quit, even when the conditions at work were unbearable, because he had a family to support and his children's tuition to pay. As he grew older, he found himself working harder and harder, trying to keep up with the demands of the job and the cost of living in America.

The pressure of our situation was immense, and it weighed heavily on all of us. We were isolated from our old lives in China, struggling to adapt to a new and unfamiliar culture. We were caught up in a rat race, competing against others for jobs, money, and success. And yet, through all the hardships and difficulties, we remained determined to persevere.

In the end, our house became a symbol of our resilience and determination. It wasn't just a place to live, but a testament to all the hard work and sacrifice that had brought us to this point. Despite the challenges we faced, we were proud to have made a life for ourselves in America, and we were grateful for the opportunities and freedoms that we had been given.

When I reflect on the past, I remember thinking that there was nothing worse than living in a completely different world. When we were in China, we never had to experience the struggles we faced when we moved to the United States. It wasn't just the hard work that we had to put into the system, but it was also the feeling of isolation from our previous life in China. We were used to a different way of living, and the cultural differences and language barrier made it difficult to connect with others. It felt like we were living in a completely different world, and this added to the stress and strain of our situation. Despite the difficulties, we persevered and worked hard to create a new life for ourselves and our family in this foreign land.

My family fought to get into American culture like the Dream of owning a house here. But for me, it was kind of harder. I tried, but it was not as easy as downloading instagram, facebook and other social media apps. It was the isolation of the two cultures. The reality of life in America could be much more challenging than we expected. Immigrants often faced a number of obstacles, from cultural and language barriers to discrimination and prejudice. We might find ourselves struggling to make ends meet, working long hours in low-paying jobs, and dealing with the stress of trying to fit into a new and unfamiliar society.

It was a beautiful day with a blue sky and bright sun, and I was feeling happy as I hung out with friends whom I hadn't seen since the pandemic began. However, an incident at a gas station made me feel disappointed and upset. My car was out of gas, so I drove to my favorite and affordable gas station. However, my gas tank was facing the wrong side of the pump, so I decided to turn around and park in the spot next to the pump I had originally chosen.

As I parked, a car drove in and the driver, a 47-year-old Chinese man with his wife in the passenger seat, stared at me as if I had taken his spot. I was sure that I had arrived there first and parked my car already, but he got angry and gave me his middle finger, using foul language towards me. At first, I ignored him, but he continued to bother me with his fluent cursing. I decided to stand up for myself and responded with harsh words. However, he became even angrier, stepped in front of me, and grabbed my neck, choking me gently but forcefully with his palms.

I was taken aback and surprised, as it was my first time experiencing this kind of racism from an older Chinese immigrant discriminating against a newer one like myself. The police were called, and the man apologized to me because he didn't want to face criminal charges and go to jail at 47 years old. Nonetheless, the incident left me feeling shaken and disappointed that such problems still exist in our society.

The notion of "Gold Mountain" that I heard of in my younger days was a myth. There was no actual gold to be found, but what I discovered was far more valuable. As a Chinese immigrant, I learned about the history of those who came before me and saw how their struggles were connected to my own. Hard work became the only path forward when opportunities were scarce, but I never gave up. Instead, I realized that the true meaning of gold was not in material wealth, but in addressing the social problems that we faced. By acknowledging these issues and working to fix them, we can create a more just and equitable society for all.

Works Cited

“Chinese Exclusion Act (1882).” National Archives and Records Administration, National Archives and Records Administration.

Takaki, Ronald T., and Clint Smith. A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America. Back Bay Books, 2023.