"91% are proud to be Peruvians..."

"...and would not change their nationality." This was the headline today in El Comercio, the major daily newspaper in Lima. Signs of nationalism seem to be on the rise here in Peru, probably because of the upcoming independence day, July 28. I'm honestly a little scared for when the day finally arrives, as I'm sure it'll all be crazy and insane given last week's "Gran Curso Wong." The Gran Curso Wong is a parade commercially sponsored by the giant supermarket chain "Wong," which was started by early Chinese immigrants maybe a hundred years ago, and has since grown into a kind of Target or Walmart. Considering the madness that was that the Wong parade (I'm still getting over the fact that a giant parade was held by a giant corporation with huge crowds and security and fireworks and shutdown streets), I can hardly imagine what kind of independence day party the Peruvians are about to throw.

(Photo caption: Onlookers at the Gran Curso Wong)

I've always found nationalism interesting; nationalism seems to inspire all sorts of emotions. One popular idea of nationalism holds that nations are "imagined communities," wherein nations are socially constructed community in order to define a national identity and create a sense of belonging among its citizens. Whereas "real" communities are often based upon kinships or small geographic boundaries, imagined communities must often construct identities in order to delineate a nation. Nationalism in Peru appear to be quite strong: the soft drink "Inca Kola" continues to outpace Coca-Cola (one of the few local beverages in the world to do so), people everywhere wear little lapels with the Peruvian flag, and as I mentioned in an earlier post, street names have all been renamed to more patriotic-sounding names, "Calle Wilson" became "Inca Garcilazo" (anything with "Inca" carries clear nationalistic connotations) "Jose Leuro" became "28 de Julio" (the day of independence), "Geldres" became "Libertad" (Liberty). It almost seems 1984-esque.

So how does this all relate to Chinatowns and the diaspora? Well, it occurred to me that I had largely considered myself first and foremost an American, and as a kid I enjoyed participating in activities celebrating a national pastime. I joined a fife and drum corps in fourth grade and felt proud to be celebrating my nation's heritage, which despite the fact that my parents were immigrants to the U.S., I saw as my own heritage. I memorized all the presidents' names and years, learned about the various wars the U.S. had fought, and was proud to be from Concord, Massachusetts, where the American war for independence had begun. I was bored by Chinese school and took little interest in learning about my family history (which I now know to be objectively, quite fascinating...).

I shouldn't be surprised, then, by the fact that most kids and teenagers of Chinese descent I've interviewed here know little about their Chinese familial history, seem bored by the required Mandarin classes, care little for anything Chinese (except the hongbao, or "red envelopes" stuffed with cash that Chinese kids receive during Chinese New Years), and consider themselves proudly Peruvian. And it shouldn't be surprising that Peruvians, regardless of whether they are white, mestizo, black, Chinese, or anything else can still dress up in "traditional Peruvian" costumes (often of Incan, pre-Incan, or pre-Spanish origin) and celebrate a national heritage. But I still have trouble getting over this embarrassingly obvious fact.

(Photo caption: First-generation students at the Chinese-Peruvian school "Diez de Octubre" prepare for a national Peruvian dance. Most can speak Cantonese in addition to Spanish.)

Roxana has a son, Jose, who was born in Peru the same year I was. Although he grew up in the Barrio Chino and both his parents were Chinese, he can only understand some basic Cantonese and admits to feeling far more Peruvian than Chinese. Even though he attended a Chinese-Peruvian elementary and secondary school, Jose tells me that he found the Chinese kids to often be cold and uninviting, whereas the Peruvians were much were carinoso, or warm-hearted.

(Jose in his room in Barrio Chino.)


In contrast to the tusan Peruvian-Chinese (those born in Peru), though, recent immigrants feel no such love for Peru. Many recent Chinese immigrants see Peru as little more than a place to make money before returning to China. Others see Peru as simply a gateway to the U.S. or wealthier Western countries. A group of teenagers at a Peruvian-Chinese school admitted that they understood little Spanish and would return to China once their family had enough money. All of them have told me they lived in the countryside, and moved to Peru because of poverty. China remains their homeland, and although I haven't detected any particularly strong sense of nationalism, it seems as if there does exist a sense of Chinese cultural superiority.

(Ping-pong tournament at Juan XXIII, the other Chinese-Peruvian school. Juan XXIII was originally founded by an Italian missionary who worked in China during the 1930s and 1940s. After China became ruled by the Communists in 1949, he apparently went back to Rome and asked the pope what he should do, mentioning the fact that he wanted to work with Chinese people. The pope sent him to Peru, with its substantial Chinese population.)

Like their North-American counterparts, however, Peruvian-Chinese do not necessarily have to choose between a Peruvian identity and a Chinese one. The descendants of the first Chinese immigrants here are proud of their hybrid identity. Doctor Luis Yong, the owner of a successful chifa restaurant in El Barrio Chino, director of the Associacion Peruana-China, and a surgeon, was emphatic in explaining to me the success story of Peru's Chinese immigrants. For him, the Chinese-Peruvians succeeded because of a cultural propensity toward hard work, integrity, respect, filial piety, and other guiding principles rooted in Confucianism and Daoism (and to a lesser extent, he says, in Buddhism... he seems to think that because Buddhism was not natively Chinese, it does not hold as large of an influence). The Chinese-Peruvians are distinguished from their Japanese-Peruvian, Italian-Peruvian, or Arab-Peruvian counterparts because they have both successfully managed to integrate into Peruvian society (Luis notes the hybrid chifa food), while also maintaining a strong cultural background. There is no Japantown, Little Italy, Luis says, perhaps idealizing the Chinese community.

Nationalism is often capable of clearing the identity slates of first-generation immigrants such as myself or Jose. First-generation populations, have far more malleable identities than their immigrant parents. Whereas immigrant parents have often seen Peru as simply a foreign land of opportunity, many first-generation children have adopted new national identities, and perhaps only secondarily bothered to consider their family's cultural heritage. Striking a balance between a cultural heritage and an adopted national identity is not impossible, but often induces false or simplistic ideals of nationalism or cultural superiority.