My mother is one of the reasons why I moved to Canada from Taiwan.

I still remember that day in a 10th grade composition class. The teacher asked us to write about “My Mother”. Suddenly, I was stunned. Usually, I was never at a loss for words. But I was dazed by this challenge and could not help crying. Before the bell rang, our teacher walked up to me and asked me to go with her out into the corridor. There, she asked me, ‟What happened? Are you okay?” I did not know how to respond. My emotions overcame me and I could only sob. She patted me on the shoulder and asked, ‟Do you want me to talk to your mother?” I could only shake my head. 23 years later, separated from mom by the immense Pacific Ocean and the entire American continent, I can finally finish the story now.

Mom was born in 1947, two years after WWII and the end of Japanese colonization, in a typical Hakka farm village in the countryside of Miaoli, Taiwan. In that era, rural areas relied heavily on human labour and cattle to plow, and therefore rural families were very large. Mom had six brothers and three sisters. There were two other siblings whom she never met. They were given away to others by my grandfather. In mom’s family, the girls had been given very special names in the hopes that they would bring good luck to the family. Mom’s sisters all have names with “Zhao”, which symbolizes “bringing”. Mom was named “Zhao Tao”, directly translated to ‘Bringing Peaches’, meaning to bring love.

Grandpa’s mother (that is, mom’s grandmother) was snatched by a local tycoon to be his third wife. Her children could not accompany her, so she secretly gave money to my grandpa, and grandpa used the money for gambling until she found out. Then she stopped sending money to him. He continued to gamble and gamble. By the time he sold most of his lands and properties, he was still not favored by the God of Fortune. His wife and the ten children were treated as his punching bags. Every day they were beaten near to death. Mom once went home late and was hung under a tree and beaten by grandfather. She fainted. Later she woke up slowly, not knowing for how long she had been hanging there. She broke free of the ropes and ran home.

Mom landed a job in a textile factory in Toufen town. After work, she went to night school to study Child Development and Education. She dreamed of a better life which, for her, meant getting married. I still remember vividly that in the living room cabinet there was a very delicately lacquered wooden horse with a fancy outer box with printed Japanese letters. Mom said it was given to her by a Japanese man who pursued her. It is a shame that her fate does not correspond to her name. She has never been in a relationship her entire life, because she is actually a very superstitious person. She said that there must be an age difference of four or eight years between spouses in order for them to stay together for a long time. The spouse’s earlobes should be large, indicating longevity. The other spouse’s parents should be alive when they get married, meaning that the spouse is very devoted to his parents. Every night mom cried herself to sleep, because grandfather kept arranging dates for her, but all in vain. All of her siblings got married, except for her. She was a stigma to her family.

Despite it all, mom actively filled up her schedule. After studying in night school, she went to college, obtained a substitute teacher’s certification, and began to work in elementary schools. She was a substitute in a wide range of classes, from general subjects to kinetics. In her free time, she climbed many of Taiwan’s mountains, including the One Hundred Peaks that are over 3000 meters in height. Regardless of her being active, she still did not meet her Mr. Right. Not until she was 32 years old.

At a gathering of friends, she met a man with giant earlobes. She finally got the answer she wanted after a short conversation with this man. Despite the fact that he raped her after the party, she asked him to marry her, and he agreed. They had their wedding after one month’s acquaintance. On the wedding day, my grandfather was overjoyed. He lit up a ton of firecrackers so that all the neighbors knew - Peaches got married!

Mom moved to Taipei with dad. The stress of life immediately overwhelmed her, as three daughters were born when she was 32, 34 and 36. There was a deep scar on her belly, because all of her daughters were delivered by C-sections. The financial pressure had also taken its toll. Dad, who had worked full-time as a typesetting mechanic in a newspaper company at night, and part-time as a security guard in a building during the day, spent most of his time sleeping while at home. So as soon as mom and us children interrupted dad’s sleep, dad would beat mom. Slaps in the face and fists on the stomach. Once he hit mom’s head with a heavy bucket. She had to have five stitches, and there were long scars on her scalp.

Mom also beat us. She plucked thin bamboo branches from the field of her old home, bundling one end of the branches as a handle. I remember one time I refused to hand in my blanket for laundry, the scent of familiarity helped me to fall asleep. Mom quietly took the blanket away while I was sleeping, but then I woke up and chased her outside the room. I fought to rescue my blanket from mom. She lashed me fiercely with the bamboo branches. When the knots on the bamboo branches whipped my skin, the blood and bruises surfaced immediately along with a painful throbbing feeling. I was not an obedient child and often made my mom angry, so I was the most beaten one among my sisters. Once I was beaten by mom so heavily that even my sisters cried and begged her to stop.

Mom always said that only because grandpa beat her nearly to death, she did not go bad, and so beating us was actually for our own good. Whether I cried because when cutting my nails, she would cut my fingertips so they bled, or because she made promises that she never kept, she just hit me and told me to stop crying. She used the bamboo branches to educate us about everything. Once she was attending a preschool education seminar, and I wanted to go with her. But she asked me to stay home. I still wanted to go, fighting with her with all my strength. So mom got a neighbor to beat me. It broke my heart completely as a seven-year-old, and I never trusted her again.

Mom did not let us do the housework. She asked us only to do our homework well and get good grades in tests. She dressed us in long skirts, saying that we looked more elegant. Every day she got up at five o’clock in the morning and cooked breakfast for the family of five and grandpa. Then she went to the school campus nearby to play Tai Chi. Later, she woke us up for school and then she went to work at 7 o’clock, returning at 5 to cook our supper. Afterwards, she corrected our homework and that of her students.

Our house had the latest newspapers because of dad. While other children in kindergarten were reading Children’s Daily, I read the newspapers my dad brought home, and I asked them whenever I did not comprehend. Thus, I often won prizes in language competitions. I started to learn English when I was 13. Immersing myself in American pop music and culture was the only relief for me. When my parents quarrelled, I could put my headphones on and let The Cranberries scream for me.

As we grew up, mom beat us less frequently, but the scars she left on my heart were getting deeper and deeper. I dared not to confront her about her parenting and the beatings she gave us because such questioning is not considered to be filial. Filial piety in Asian culture means that one must obey everything one’s parents do, especially when they say: “I do this for your own good”. Even if I did not resist mom’s beating, the doubts in my heart became louder and louder: is this really good for me? Am I bad?

Once, when I was in the 10th grade, mom forced me to correct my writing composition homework. I told her that all the words and phrases she used were very outdated. She said angrily to me, “Now you have become full-fledged and you are ready to leave the nest?!” Then she picked up the bamboo branches to hit me. A fit of anger surged in my chest. I was already taller than she was at that time, so I grabbed her hand, and pushed her away with my knee against her belly. She was stunned. The next second she burst into tears. ‟How can you do this to me? I’m your mother.” Then as she tried again to pick up the branches, I grabbed mom’s hand firmly and shouted, ‟Don’t hit me ever again!”

That was the last time mom hit me. Later, mom asked me why I did not hide when I was a kid. I was startled, because I did not know that was an option. When mom said she would hit me, I would wait for her to take out the branches and be beaten obediently. Mom said that my sister would run away and hide, so she could never get beaten.

Now, mom is not as indescribable to me as she was when I was 17, but she is still a great mystery. She is a very contradictory person, often changing her own words, over and over again. She is very conservative; there is no way for her to tolerate and accept thoughts and people that are different from her. But she never hesitates to express her care and love for us. Maybe in her heart and eyes, we have always been three-year-olds. She also insists on loving us in a meticulous way. Her care is so strong, sometimes even unreasonable. Once she phoned my sister’s ex-boyfriend to ask him to make it up with her. Mom single-heartedly hoped that my younger sister’s ex-boyfriend would marry my sister. Mom even told his parents, ‟My daughter is a virgin.” After I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, mom also phoned his home to tell his parents, ‟They are very suitable for each other. They should get married.” All of this happened because she thought that marriage is good for us.

Her domineering love for me was like being under the July sun in Taiwan. Without shade, I would be cooked to death. So, I avoided her. After I enrolled in university, I was finally able to move away from home. I went to Russia as an exchange student, to China to work, and to Europe to travel. I did not spend the Lunar New Years with my family.

Although mom no longer hits me, the quarrels and verbal conflicts between us have never ended. From the very beginning when we were able to vote, mom would tell us whom to vote for. Until now, in all the big and small elections in Taiwan in the past 20 years, before and on the day of voting, mom still tirelessly instructed us to vote for the candidates she liked. She never stopped caring even after my sisters got married. Mom wanted to join my big sister’s honeymoon in Australia, so it became a family trip. Then she joined my younger sister’s honeymoon in Europe, saying she could be helpful with the luggage. Then naturally, mom took care of my younger sister’s children and stayed at her house helping her bring up her children. Sadly, it was also mom who found out that my sister’s ex-husband cheated on her, while my sister was too absorbed with work. When they divorced, mom asked my sister’s ex-husband why he divorced her. He said my sister was too gullible and did not have her own ideas.

As a political fanatic who holds dominant status at home, mom sees me as a traitor, whose political views are inverted. In mom’s upbringing, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) which advocates Taiwan’s independence, has always been regarded by the long-ruling Kuomingtang (KMT, Chinese Nationalist Party) as the source of social chaos. Mom only absorbs information from the media that supports her political views. Mom and I are getting more and more divergent in terms of our identities. It is not that I like the DPP, but that I do not agree with the KMT, and I am worried that one day, Taiwan will lose its democratic voice. I hope that one day we can declare ourselves confidently, ‟Yes, I am Taiwanese,” because Taiwan is de facto a country. But mom cannot express her identity. She might be afraid that China will reunite Taiwan by the use of force as soon as Taiwan declares independence. She has been brainwashed by KMT’s state media since she was a child. She resents the DPP, and this hatred has gradually turned her into choosing to vote for the KMT. Mom and I are, thus, polarized by our political views.

Then I became vegan. It is generally believed in Taiwan that if people want to make their wishes come true, they should quit eating meat. My older sister was pregnant with twins in 2012. One of her fetuses was in poor condition and might not have survived. My younger sister mobilized the whole family to ditch meat so as to send blessings to our sister. I changed from being a heavy meat eater to being a lacto-ovo vegetarian. After my sister gave birth to healthy twins, I carried on being a vegetarian. In 2016, the heartbeat of my younger sister’s second baby could not be detected, so I raised the stakes, and switched to being vegan, quitting dairy products and eggs. After my sister gave birth to a healthy boy, I actively chose to continue leading a vegan lifestyle. My mom thought that eating meat was healthy; she always wanted me to eat meat. We used to have frequent fights over this, but gradually she began to practice Buddha’s teachings and changed her views on veganism.

Death was a forbidden word in our family. Every time I mentioned the word, mom would be furious, urging me to shut up and beginning to chant the Buddha’s name. But now she started to make a will with dad after a group discussion with fellow Buddhist practitioners, and she has begun to discuss with us how to deal with things after her death. She used to have a strong negative sentiment against homosexuality, scolding them with resentment. But now she practices Buddha’s teachings and uses what she has learned. One day mom said to me, ‟In fact, homosexuals, like all of us, also want to stay away from suffering and obtain happiness. I am learning to be more inclusive.”

Thinking back to when I was in college, I often went to consult with our class instructor about my relationship with mom, and often the instructor would persuade me to start learning Buddha’s teachings and to start observing mom’s merits and appreciating her kindness. The conflicts and friction between me and mom may have been reduced in the past few years, but there is no way to get along with her in real peace. I did not tell mom about my personal feelings because I always felt that if I revealed too much to her about what’s going on in my life, she would interfere. That could cause more misunderstandings and unnecessary tension. My college instructor recommended that I join a Buddhist session. Not until I started to go to the sessions regularly and participate in events organized by the Buddhist institute, did I realize that mom and I actually had been going to the same institute. But mom joined it much earlier than I did. Before college, she would talk about the sessions and events organized by the Institute, and I sometimes mocked her or didn’t pay her any attention. Now I finally see my own ignorance.

Mom has been working very hard. In addition to being a full-time substitute teacher, she also took on a lot of family work folding carton cases and other handcrafts, so as to cover expenses and give us a better education and life. In the summer when I was going to be a sixth grader, I went hiking with the whole family. After that, I had a high fever and could not eat or drink. The medication prescribed by the physician at a nearby clinic was not helpful. Even after taking bed rest at home for a month, my condition worsened. Mom and dad sent me to the Main Hospital and I was diagnosed with peritonitis. My appendix had to be removed immediately. During the month of hospitalization, mom stayed with me in the hospital for the nights. I still remember that I was always in a bad mood when I was sick. Mom tried her best to calm me down. After I was discharged from the hospital, I was only 160 cm in height and my weight dropped to 37 kg. During the month of rest at home, mom took care of me, and my health gradually improved. Mom also invited my teachers and classmates to visit me so I could adapt to school life easier.

Mom has always been supportive of what we wanted to do. Even when my studies in Russia were fully funded, dad opposed my going. But mom supported me mentally and financially. After that, I worked in China for a few years. I received packages from her regularly: large packages full of Taiwanese food and thick stacks of letters written by her asking me to take good care of myself.

As I participate in events and sessions held by the Buddhist institute more often, I want to be closer to the mentor in learning how to be altruistic, and to stop worrying. The conflicts between the political parties in Taiwan continue to exacerbate the tension and anxiety that fills the air. So in 2018, I applied for a master’s program at the University of Prince Edward Island in Canada, and hope to stay in PEI after graduation. In the summer of 2017, mom came to PEI for a Buddhist meditation retreat. She was full of praise for the island and the Institute, and was fully supportive of my choice of coming to PEI.

My 80-year-old dad said he could not see me off at the airport when I visited them in Miaoli before coming to Canada in 2019. But he took me to the Highspeed Rail Station. When we pulled over in front of the Station, my 72-year-old mom asked me when I got out of the car, ‟Did you bring your phone, keys, wallet, and water bottle?” Before, I would have talked back to her without thinking, ‟Stop nagging! Of course, I did!” But at that moment, I felt as though I had been hit by an electric blast. I paused and said to her, ‟Yes. I’ve got everything. Thank you, mom.” Then I got out of the car and gave her and dad a big hug. I walked into the station and waited for the train to come. I could not stop my tears. It turned out that accepting mom’s care is such a happy thing to do. Why didn’t I see mom’s kindness earlier? Why did I stop mom’s love for me?

I feel incredibly grateful to be able to stay on Prince Edward Island where I have the space and time to reflect and contemplate. In Taipei, it was often difficult to do so because of my living conditions. The city is so densely populated that I could hear my neighbors talking while I was sitting in our house. One thing that has enabled me to listen to my inner voice has been my study of the teachings of Buddha. Maybe in the future, mom and I will still have friction and conflict due to the differences in our opinions, but I am more willing to be patient.

Although we are separated by the Pacific Ocean and the entire American continent, I have never felt closer to my mom. Mom, I love you.