A New Years celebration is a huge waste if I have to end it, hungover and saddled with resolutions that are as realistic as digital-privacy in China. Even resolutions that are on-point upset me because they’re an exercise in self-hate—so very depressing. That’s why, when the first new moon of the year comes around, I’m more than happy to celebrate again—it’s the best kind of do-over and a great way to show how little you care about resolution number one, dry January.
I’m talking about Chinese New Year, or should we call it the Lunar New Year? The answer to that depends on your point of view, and increasingly on your politics. Dare I say wokeness?
It seems that labeling something Chinese isn’t as okay as it used to be. For those of you in favor of canceling Chinese, let me ask you this—What should we call America’s favorite meal on the go, the TakeOut Formerly Known as Chinese? Asian TakeOut deprecates all the other culinary schools that originate in that part of the world, and if you think it’s hard picking a place to meet now, imagine what happens when you can’t distinguish Thai, Vietnamese and all the rest. It won’t do. After all, what is it we find offensive? Has the food or the holiday done something wrong? Are we taking out our rage against the communists in Beijing? If something needs to be done, we’ll find a way, but I suggest that canceling Chinese as a label misses the point.
The morning of the new moon, I stepped into one of my favorite places, an Asian Market near my home—yes, ironic considering what I just said, but in this case it’s the right label—I can find anything Asian inspired there. They always have the freshest chicken feet and they never act like I’m a social deviant for wanting piles of them. It can’t be cheap to keep live seafood in tanks, but I respect them for it. They work hard to keep a represented variety of imported Asian beer in stock. If you can’t tell, I want this sort of thing to thrive, so find one and give them your money.
On this visit, I’m immediately greeted by stacks of red and gold packages of dried-candied ginger and other treats. There were pears the size of apples and apples the size of grapefruits wrapped in gold foil, decorations, fireworks and piles of fuzzy red stuffed animals—all correctly themed for the coming year.
Gold is for wealth—I’m down for that. Red is for happiness and fortune. I’m not sure what happiness is outside a good meal, but I understand good fortune and I won’t turn that away either—remember that business about resolutions? I’ll take well wishes of good fortune and wealth over self-inflicted shame every time.
The colors take on another meaning when you compare Taiwan and China. Almost everyone associates modern-day China with red. It’s the color of communism, the ink of the characters on your takeout-noodle box and the color of the iconic flag of the PRC (People’s Republic of China.) Gold is for Taiwan. its flag has some red too, but it’s America’s golden darling of the Southeast Sea and longtime partner in trade. They call themselves the Republic of China (ROC), which means the Chinese people who like capitalism.
Considering the current state of global politics, America’s business interests with Taiwan, and that people all over Asia, including Taiwanese, celebrate the new year on the first new moon of the year—it would seem right to give the PRC a middle finger and cancel the Chinese in New Year. But there’s something you need to know first, which I just learned from friends in Taiwan—despite the philosophical fallout that led to the ROC’s exile and the still-constant fear of losing their autonomy to the PRC, they still consider themselves Chinese. For them, interchanging Chinese and Lunar is fine, but canceling Chinese altogether makes as much sense as canceling themselves. It seems that you can’t have the red without the gold.
This is a cultural phenomenon that being an American doesn’t prepare you to understand, but some labels are political and some are cultural—others, like Chinese, are both. So cultural awareness via canceling can just as easily disenfranchise the people you think you support.
After collecting some beautiful radishes, fresh rice noodles and a six-pack of lovely Taiwan Beer, I finished up at the meat counter with a pile of pig knuckles for a Taiwanese bone broth recipe, Zhu Jiao Mian Xia. Eating pig’s feet is also said to give you good fortune, so I called it Chinese Red Broth and rang in the new year, with no resolution to change anything.
