Black Cake

By Rebecca Catoe

I

magine a world where you’re on a TV screen. I’ve realized that as a Blasian (mixed Asian and Black), that’s not something I ever dreamed of; when I was little, I didn’t even know they existed outside my family. So when my friend told me about the book Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson and that the main character was Jamaican and Chinese, I lost no time acquiring a copy. I can count on one hand how many people I’ve met with my unique heritage, so I was fascinated by this book and TV show. As it turns out, it has become one of my favorite stories.

As I started the first episode, my anticipation was palpable. I looked forward to finally seeing these characters who would look like me but in their own beautiful way. I was fully prepared for the beauty of seeing other mixed Carribeans on my TV screen. However, I wasn’t prepared for the moment the characters opened their mouths to speak. As the sound traveled through the speakers, their words felt like music to my soul, their Jamaican accent coating every word they spoke. Transporting me back to my family gatherings. If I closed my eyes, the sound brought the feeling of home and sent me right back to Aunties chatting at my grandma's house. The clanging of pots and aroma of food penetrated the air, laughing and sharing family updates over the stove's warmth, with the squeals of children playing in the backroom. 

It caught me off guard that something as small as how words were spoken would hold so much meaning and significance. As the episodes progressed, little details kept sticking out to me and catching my attention, from the beautiful accents and relatable jokes to the black cake being a kitchen staple. The greeting “Wah Gwan?”, Jamaican slang for “What’s up?” and is spoken by the Chinese father, who I imagine looked and sounded a little like my papa (a Chinese man who moved to Jamaica).  The heartache of losing a mother that Covey walks through, as her mother left when she was a young girl,  mirrors my mom’s loss of her mother as a child, the grandmother I never met. Different types of family loss are woven throughout in a continuous thread, small details speaking to a piece of me that's often left unseen.

That moment deeply resonated with me as I have grappled with my own mixed racial identity and navigated what it means to be of multiple ethnicities. The all too familiar question of “What are you?” simply because you don’t fit neatly into someone’s box. As I’ve been in the process of growing and learning to be all of me fully. I, too, have a similar experience of finally being able to say, “I’m Chinese!” Not feeling the need to prove or qualify myself, even though I may not fit into the normal box of what it means or looks like to be Chinese.

 Learning that my Blackness and Jamaicanness don’t negate or minimize my Asianness and vice versa. I’m allowed to be intricately complex, simultaneously holding the tension of multiple things being true and having the freedom and space to embrace the fullness of who I am. 

Even when my identity comes with complexities, I embody tension and violence within myself. You see hints at some of this racial tension in the story between Lin Cook and other Jamaicans on the island, reminiscent of the history of many Chinese Jamaicans who fled Jamaica out of fear of the inter-ethnic violence.I grapple with the reality that one of my homelands was inhospitable to a part of my DNA. Within my body, I hold so many incongruent and seemingly incompatible pieces, which is part of the difficulty of being multicultural.

 Yet the beauty of it is learning that all of those pieces, even the painful ones, fit perfectly together to create the masterpiece that is me.  Stories, pain, conflict, joy, resilience, creativity, courage, and even anger have all brushed their unique strokes and colors onto the canvas of my life and invite me into an opportunity to become whole as I welcome all of the pieces of myself.

 I can’t simply choose the Chinese part of me, nor can I choose the Jamaican part of me; they are interwoven into a singular thread and cannot be separated. If I lose one, I lose myself. It’s not always easy, and it can feel painstakingly difficult to learn to come home to myself and create belonging when I often feel like a guest in my own home. I'm welcome and apart, but I can’t quite own it. As I long for wholeness and acceptance, I am reminded that I have a seat at the table of the King. When none of my communities feel completely like my home or truly hospitable towards me, Christ’s open arms of hospitality beckon me in. The belonging of seeing a part of me represented in Black Cake feels like a mirror pointing to the belonging that the gospel infuses into my heart. Christ sees all of me, my mixture of cultures, heritage, backgrounds, experiences, languages, and foods. He affirms each of the threads, each a part of the beauty and diversity he intentionally placed within me. 

 Learning to celebrate all the complexity has been a beautiful journey that now allows me to celebrate the beautiful representation of myself in the story of Black Cake. 

This story has encouraged me to move towards others with Christ’s hospitality. Seeking to foster new tables of welcome and belonging for those with the privilege and weight of holding multiple cultures together. Reminding them that there’s a seat for their fullness in the kingdom of God. Coming alongside those who, like me, are trying to make sense of who they are, wondering if they, too, can say “I’m Chinese!” 

Photo Courtesy Hulu.

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Rebecca Catoe is a multicultural follower of Jesus, she has her Masters in Social Work and resides in Cleveland, Ohio. She currently leads campus ministry in Cleveland including the Epic Movement (contextualized campus ministry for Asian American students), and has over 6 years of experience contextualizing the gospel, and pursuing justice and cultural competency in diverse spaces.