Li-Yong Lee reflects on the social placement of Chinese Americans in Persimmons by sectioning recollections to structure a multifaceted self-representation. He elicits reminiscences throughout his early and later life, and though his recollections are outwardly scattered, they bond in various ways. The poem acts as one unified piece since nearly all memories involve the Chinese fruit persimmons as the controlling image. Essentially, however, all of Lee’s diverse experiences divulge difficulties of living as a culturally Chinese person in America. Thus, Persimmons, with the connected quality of the recollections, assembles a tale about the complex course of ethnic integration—as American culture uncovers and expropriates Chinese customs.
In the poem’s first stanza, Lee directly approaches the route of integration: “In sixth grade Mrs. Walker / slapped the back of my head / and made me stand in the corner / for not knowing the difference / between persimmon and precision” (Lee 1-5). Mrs. Walker implements the policies for speaking standard or fluent English by scolding Lee’s aberrance. Assumingly a white teacher, Mrs. Walker applied physical violence and embarrassment when she “slapped the back of [Lee’s] head” and made him “stand in the corner” (Lee 2-3). As the school’s dominant image characterizing the educational system, Mrs. Walker selected penalties that expressed an atrocious and stinging message: communicating with flawed English exhibits idiocy and futility. While Lee discloses a stage of inexperience with the English language by confusing the words persimmon and precision, the reader recognizes that his misunderstanding may have as much to do with articulation as with sense. In fact, Lee could handle the distinction of the meaning between these two words fairly deftly: “How to choose / persimmons. This is precision” (Lee 6-7). However, because the educational system inflicts the leading white society’s regulations for speaking standard and fluent English, and therefore endorses linguistic integration, Lee continues to struggle through the socially regulating course of ethnic integration.
Lee’s selection of enjambment with the line “How to choose” closes the first stanza and shifts the focus to the idea of having options (Lee 6). After the embarrassing classroom event, Lee seemingly believes that he does not have the authority to choose. Both as a kid and as a scholar, Lee falls short of agency in this course of integration. It is only towards the end of the poem that Lee substantiates his linguistic integrations and recoups agency in the process. He does this by joining the words through their analogous sounds and their figurative connection: “Other words / that got me into trouble were / fight and fright, wren and yarn” (Lee 29-31). Particularly, the difference linking wren and yarn guides to a warm reminiscence, such that of observing his mother making “birds out of yarn” while also tying “a rabbit, [and] a wee man” (Lee 37-39). In this stanza, precision is the focal point. Lee’s mother’s precise creation directly diverges with the depiction of Mrs. Walker, who obviously did not understand how to pick persimmons precisely. Hence, while rationalizing his linguistic conflations, Lee regains agency by signifying his present power of the English language.
In the second stanza, Lee explains the correct procedure to carefully choose and eat persimmons. Writing with a visibly softened tone, Lee hints that the persimmons symbolize tenderness and sweetness, though not strictly in the physical sense. His delivery endorses this idea: “Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted. / Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one / will be fragrant. How to eat: / put the knife away, lay down newspaper. / Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat. / Chew the skin, suck it, / and swallow. Now, eat / the meat of the fruit, / so sweet, / all of it, to the heart” (Lee 8-17). The persimmon’s value to Lee is starting to materialize as his description is so careful and so precise to a point that the reader spots the fruit’s literal smoothness, “put the knife away, lay down newspaper,” translating the delicate method of selecting and eating persimmons into emotional smoothness (Lee 11).
This cautious, deferential handling of the fruit and its relation to “the heart” and tenderness are reiterated in Lee’s affectionate evocation of his parents, and in the continual connection of them with the golden warmth of persimmons. Yet, Lee first hints at his disconnection to his parents and their customs by embodying the basis of his diversion with Donna, a white female with whom he rests naked in the yard. Lee’s wavering tries to teach Donna Chinese indicates the weakening influence of his parents’ ethnicity and its morals: “Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten. / Naked: I’ve forgotten. / Ni, wo: you and me” (Lee 23-25). Lee hints in this stanza that his pull to American traditions concerned a prostitution of sorts of his culture. Presently as a Chinese American adult, Lee has integrated into American heritage, and thus satisfied Mrs. Walker’s purpose in the first stanza, at the cost of losing Chinese ethnic knowledge.
In the fourth stanza, Lee recalls a memory of Mrs. Walker’s misuse of persimmons: “Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class / and cut it up / so everyone could taste / a Chinese apple” (Lee 40-43). By trying to force the persimmon into the American perspective, Mrs. Walker wrongly names the Chinese fruit “a Chinese apple,” though persimmons in fact appear and taste quite unlike apples (Lee 43). By using a knife to “cut it up,” she also wrongly prepares the persimmon for the class (Lee 41). This infringes the right Chinese way to eat the fruit, a process that involves “put[ting] the knife away” and “Peel[ing] the skin tenderly” (Lee 11-12). Mrs. Walker’s exercise of a knife also demonstrates the violence of cutting up a heritage, countering the gentleness that should have been given. By cutting the fruit, Mrs. Walker depicts the persimmon as a foreign version of an apple, and thus lacks the appropriate understanding for distributing the persimmon to the class (as “it wasn’t ripe or sweet”) and the authorization to expropriate part of the Chinese culture (Lee 44). Even though the remaining embarrassment from Lee’s previous persimmon incident (getting slapped for confusing the words persimmon and precision) may come back, the enjoyment arrives this moment, not only from the taste of the Chinese fruit, but also from recognizing that the role of cluelessness has been reversed. Mrs. Walker is now the idiotic one and Lee may taste the sweet pleasure of unspoken vengeance as his classmates experience the stinging bitterness of the unripe persimmon, like he had experienced when he was embarrassingly condemned: “I didn’t eat / but watched the other faces” (Lee 45).
Lee closes the poem by concentrating on his father’s close and more ethnically proper association to persimmons. He reflects on an incident at his parents’ home in which he finds and gives his now blind father a painting of two persimmons, saying: “This is persimmons, Father” (Lee 79). Lee’s awkward grammar differs greatly from his father’s linguistically eloquent and meticulous response: “Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk, / the strength, the tense / precision in the wrist. / I painted them hundreds of times / eyes closed. These I painted blind” (Lee 80-84). Lee’s choice to italicize the conversation between his father and him elicits notice to the language they voice, conceivably indicating speech in Chinese instead of English. If they talked in Chinese, Lee exhibits his lack of articulacy in the language—a harmful outcome of integrating into American customs. Conversely, if they were talking in English, Lee makes an astonishing grammatical blunder, seeing that he has grown up and dwelled in the United States for many years. The notion of Lee’s immigrant father articulating grammatically correct and fluent English displays a fascinating character reversal: Lee challenges typical beliefs and labels of how culturally Chinese individuals speak English.
By mentioning persimmons in the last lines: “Some things never leave a person: / scent of the hair of one you love, / the texture of persimmons / in your palm, the ripe weight,” Lee hints at his father’s admiration for persimmons as a permanent remembrance, like remembering the “one you love” (Lee 85-88). In this stanza, persimmons link to the feeling of family affection. In fact, Lee recurrently references persimmons to words both directly and indirectly related to affection such as tenderly, sweet, and ripe. Likewise, since an ethnic art form captures Lee’s father’s dialogue, the persimmon symbolizes a type of cultural affection. Persimmons symbolize an affection that people must wait for, to mature and emotionally develop, before entirely comprehending and treasuring. Lee’s father seems to present Lee exactly this type of affection by relating his memorable impressions of persimmons to having a “ripe weight” (Lee 88). Lee suggests that he now has truly developed the essential maturity to understand and receive his father’s present of family and ethnic affection.
Finally, in the last few stanzas, Lee also concludes his reflection on the challenging experiences regarding his ethnic integration into American culture by considering the recollections of his father, recollections that are “heavy with sadness, / and sweet with love” (Lee 59-60). These reminiscences, however, actually encloses a concealed message of hope, as shown in the image of persimmons. After centering on hurtful remembrances of his acculturation, Lee closes the poem with a cultural, warm, and optimistic thought. This hopefulness signifies that Lee has ultimately gained his father’s affection, together with the chance of recovering the stolen Chinese heritage.
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