Located within the western side of Chinatown in the bustling shopping district of Stockton Street lies my family’s seafood market. Just at the entrance of the shop, the displays of sea bass laying on ice, salmon heads arranged so their large bulging eyes are staring back at you, and a distinct fishy smell entering your senses can either fascinate some or disgust others. But to me, these sights are things that I see everyday but something that I wasn’t necessarily proud of before.
Liang’s Food was opened by my grandma in the late 2000’s, along with Liang’s Seafood, which is one block away. At a young age, I was excited and fascinated by the sight of the different tanks that held a variety of fish, turtles, and frogs. I was never disgusted when the fish and frogs were gutted and never thought that this variety of seafood was actually not considered “normal” for others.
But when I went to middle school, which was a lot bigger and more diverse than elementary school, I finally realized that seeing live seafood waiting to be prepared may not be something that some people are familiar with. I had a friend who thought a “fish shop” meant a store that sells aquarium fish as pets. So when she saw the shop in person, she was horrified. She explained in terror that she was not expecting to see dead and bloody fish displayed at the front of the store. I only laughed awkwardly at her response but I became more aware and open of people’s thoughts after that.
When I saw the people, especially tourists, passing by the shop and immediately doing a double-take, I shrunk away. When they started taking photos and making faces, disturbed by the bloody sight, I wanted to disappear. I didn’t want people to associate me with the seafood that they find disgusting so I began avoiding the shop and refused to tell others about my family’s business, afraid that I would be judged.
Eventually, through time and reading narratives of Asian Americans who also struggled with their culture, I overcame my insecurity. One of these narratives is Fish Cheeks, by Amy Tan. I immediately connected to her embarrassment at the food she ate. Her usage of gross imagery on how the food was prepared was also relatable. But at the end of the narrative, she learned to keep enjoying the food she loved. This ultimately inspired me and over time, I’ve also learned to keep loving my culture.
Live seafood markets are a big part of Asian and Chinese culture and a variety of seafood is a big part of our cuisine. And while it may not seem normal to some, to me, it is something that makes me proud of my identity. My family’s seafood business is something that I am no longer ashamed of. The sight of live fish, frogs, and turtles staring from inside tanks, the loud whir of the pumps, and the smell of fish and blood is something that I value deeply as a part of my culture and my family’s story.
