I’m not someone who is particularly into Thanksgiving. At the risk of sounding like a party-pooping Grinch, I have to admit I’ve never been too crazy about the holiday some people claim as their favorite day of the year. I like the idea of a day set aside to give thanks, I love having a break, and it’s pretty great to spend an entire day eating. But the American tradition of giving thanks for what we have by gorging on food, then engaging in the materialistic madness that is Black Friday seems a little twisted to me. And the staunch, traditional, turkey-centric menu is something that seems out of place in my household, and probably many immigrant households, year after year. Raised by a wonderful cook of a Chinese mother, I never had that burning love for mashed potatoes and gravy (or mac and cheese, or cream cheese bagels, or ketchup…the list goes on) that most of my friends clearly possessed. On this distinctly American holiday, I never felt completely “American”. Then there’s the colonialist history of the holiday, which is a whole separate issue I won’t go into right now. Suffice to say, I’ve always been a little hesitant when it comes to this holiday.
I write all of this under a picture of a Thanksgiving dinner spread, in a blog post titled “Thanksgiving in China”. So what’s the deal?
While not my first Thanksgiving away from home (thanks to Professor Englebert for hosting me last year!), this was my first Thanksgiving out of the country, and also the first one that felt truly comfortable. Here in Kunming, we celebrated Thanksgiving on Saturday. We (most of the program’s American students as well as our Chinese roommates) all brought our own ingredients to a small cooking school and made whatever food we wanted. For some people, that was mashed potatoes and gravy. For others, that was Chinese egg pancakes or tiramisu or trail mix. It was by no means a traditional American Thanksgiving, but a gathering of unique people, places, cultures, and foods that make us happy — there’s something I can be thankful for.
