refrain
re·frain | \ ri-ˈfrān \ 🔉
1. A command to stop doing something: As in, “Amanda, 苇杭, refrain from slouching.”; as in,“苇杭, refrain from speaking English. You’re Chinese not American.”; as in, “苇杭, refrain from getting distracted from your Chinese homework and I’ll refrain from breaking another doll.”; as in, “苇杭, put your hair up and refrain from looking like a 妖怪, a demon”. As in the unspoken commands — harsh stares, stiff shoulders, and the sharp contour of permanent frowns — which translate into the spoken unspoken commands “苇杭, refrain from hugging me.” or really just “苇杭, refrain from loving me”.
2. To stop or abstain oneself from doing something: As in, 苇杭 refrained from straining for his approval—what little girls do when they realize their love isn’t enough for a grandfather, a 爷爷, carved by hard times. As in, 苇杭 refrained from sitting up straight, refrained from speaking Chinese, refrained from writing Chinese characters, refrained from tying her hair up, refrained from picking up phone calls from a 爷爷.
3. An implicit rejection of the things one refrains from: Amanda refrained from responding to 苇杭, wearing foundation a couple shades too light, wearing face-whitening cream which burns and dies off in a sanded off sort of rawness, squatting in the bathtub under burning water while scrubbing raw skin, eyes burning with the desperate hope that “yellow” will give way to “cleansed” whiteness. She refrained from the Chinese in Chinese American just as she thought a 爷爷 refrained from her.
4. To stop: As in he refrained from living—what eventually happens to bull-headed 爷爷s’ hearts when they refuse “vile Western Medicine” or as it’s more commonly known, chemotherapy. Or, as in, I refrained from refraining; as in, I finally picked up my 爷爷’s phone call; as in, I realized as I grow older, 爷爷s start looking less like superheroes and more like me.
5. The repeated part of a poem or song (synonym: chorus): A haunting. The way I’m haunted by grief when I’ve finally stopped refraining from loving my 爷爷, finally started learning how to respond to 苇杭 again, finally started learning how to stop refraining from the Chinese in Chinese American.
6. A statement that’s frequently repeated: Refrains I whisper to myself when tying my hair up, when putting the right-shade of foundation on, when lighting incense over my 爷爷’s grave, hearing his countryside accent in my head grating clear Chinese consonants into bits and pieces. Refrains like “自以为聪明的人其实是最愚蠢的” or “困难像弹簧你弱它就强，你强它就弱”.
7. To go back to the beginning and start again (𝄇): where I have to retrace the steps of my 爷爷 from the broken dolls of childhood to the final phone calls; where I have to learn how to refrain from slouching, refrain from only speaking English, refrain from getting distracted from my homework, refrain from forgetting what it means to be a Chen, a 陈; where I have to learn how to find healing in refrains without my 爷爷.
Thank you for reading this piece of poetry by our columnist Amanda Chen! Stay tuned for more works by Amanda in the future and read more about her here. Stay tuned for future literary works by Amanda and our other writers.