Opinion | In ‘Turning Red’ I finally saw myself reflected in a main character

With a box of tissues in hand and my phone on silent, I prepared myself for the full body experience that was the 100 minutes of “Turning Red,” — a new animated film by Toronto’s Domee Shi.

And yes, I knew going in it was a colourful, joyful, rated-PG Pixar movie featuring a giant red panda, but I still expected tears. Why?

It’s one of the first few times I — and many others — saw themselves as a main character.

Told through the eyes of 13-year-old Chinese-Canadian girl Meilin (Mei) Lee, the film is about navigating the awkward stages of puberty and the impacts of these growing pains on family and school life — two different “worlds” that I know all too well.

Growing up in Toronto, I lived two very different lives, just like Mei. One was my “home life” instilled in me since birth.

It consisted of upholding the values that would make my Chinese family and ancestors proud: achieving academic excellence, respecting elders and being a “good kid,” which meant being obedient and less of a burden. After all, I was often reminded of all the sacrifices my family made in their immigration to Canada for a “better future.”

But I learned as early as elementary school, that my “home life” would make fitting in at school — my “outside life” — difficult.

Entering kindergarten was a cultural shock — from the weird looks I’d get to the questions and comments from others about my appearance, the food I ate and the language I spoke.

In class, I would also feel the cultural disconnect when kids were encouraged to discuss individual feelings, whether they were good or bad. The way I was raised, like many other immigrant children, was to keep my negative thoughts and feelings to myself — just be thankful for what I had I was told.

In my desperation to figure out how I could better fit in, I watched shows like “Lizzie McGuire” and “Gossip Girl” to try and find characters I related to.

But it quickly became clear to me that people who looked like me — not to mention had all the chaotic thoughts I had — would never be found as a star in those shows. Those main characters never dealt with questions like “why do your people eat this,” or the always dreaded question, “where are you actually from,” at a young age.

I began to rid myself of all things “Chinese” when I went into the classroom. That was met with the tension and guilt of needing to be “a perfect daughter.” To survive and fit in, I felt the need to hide these my different “lives” from one another, to code switch and seem “white enough” at school, while still making my family “proud” at home.

Another strategy was to fade into the background.

I learned that from the instances I did see Asian people cast in a show or a movie. They were either the “quiet, studious student,” or “tech wiz,” that only had one or two lines, only there to support the white main character’s storyline.

While it’s true the saying, “seeing is believing,” is cliche, sometimes when there are just a few depictions of us on the screen, we just lean into what seems to be expected of us.

As you can imagine, without any other pop culture references or ideas of what we could be, it was incredibly lonely. There weren’t tools available to me as a child to explain who I was over and over again to peers. There also wasn’t an easy way to explain to my mom why I had begun “rebelling” — which to her was box-dying my hair, getting a tattoo — as a need to fit into my “outside life.”

It’s why watching Mei in “Turning Red” was incredibly cathartic and emotional for me.

She wants to do everything to impress her mother Ming, and her family, to bring honour to them — just like I did growing up.

But she also wants to be able to see the popular boy band she is in love with in concert — something she shares in common with her friend group at school. Her parents just don’t understand.

In depicting this struggle happening during those awkward teen years, Mei is a reflection of those weird nuanced burdens we carried as immigrant kids. Her story tells us we aren’t alone in those complex, confusing experiences.

I also have hope that through this movie, and the relationships Mei shares with her mother, her grandmother and aunties, my mom will understand me a little more. That she will better understand the pressure I felt to fit into a world that seems totally different from the world at home. That it will be a starting place for dialogue to understand the differences in generations — why we are the way we are and how we can learn to accept one another.

While we are seeing more representation in movies like “Crazy Rich Asians,” or shows like “Bling Empire,” they often only depict the diasporic experience through the spectacle of luxury and elites. They may feature Asian characters, but the stories are not relatable to a majority.

“Turning Red” is not only relatable, it’s also set in Toronto, which makes it that much more special. It the quintessential story that defines Toronto — a melting pot of people from all different parts of the world, coming together and learning about one another, as well as ourselves.

While Mei and I do not have the exact same upbringing, she gives me hope that the young Asian Canadian girls of the future won’t need to hide different parts of their lives from the other, or, worse, erase parts of who are to exist.

Instead, that they’ll be able to embrace their entire selves. That both of their so-called “worlds” can live together — even if it sometimes feels like they’re a giant red panda that sticks out like a sore thumb.

Mei gives me hope that we can all embrace the panda within us.