漫威电影《尚气与十环传奇》（Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten Rings）9月3日首映，加拿大華裔演员刘思慕成为漫威首位亚裔超级英雄，创造历史！刘思慕2017年在麦克林杂志（Maclean's）发表一封致父母的信，讲述他五岁被带出国，从一开始对父母不解及怨恨，之后用23年与父母和解的心历路程，值得一读。以下内容翻译自Maclean's杂志：
11月，你们参加了《Kim's Convenience》在多伦多Glenn Gould大剧院的首映仪式，这是你们第一次出席我的影视活动。表面上我尽量装作低调，不过内心早已激动万分。那真是个完美的夜晚：我被朋友们和家人的爱所笼罩着，这比任何我憧憬过的电影画面都美妙。我活到28岁，终于明白了这才是我每天都想要的和你们的关系，不再有不听话的小孩，也不再有怒火。
我以身为你们的儿子而深感自豪。让我最感恩的, 是你们一直以来对我的无私奉献和支持, 以及你们所作出的牺牲。
A Chinese-Canadian to his parents: 'Privately, I yearned for your love'
Growing up, actor Simu Liu constantly fought with his
immigrant parents. Now, he sees through their eyes—and pays tribute to
Simu Liu is a Canadian Screen Award-nominated actor, writer and stunt performer who plays Jung Kim on the CBC TV show, Kim’s Convenience.
Mom and Dad,
We talked on the phone earlier today. We talk all the time,
actually—usually when one of us is in the car on the way to something,
or when you’re wondering when I’m coming home for dinner next. We catch
each other up on what’s going on—the auditions and gigs for me, the
vacations and the gossip on whose kids are getting married next for you.
But we never quite say the things that actually matter.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the words we never say to each
other, and to be honest, I think we’ve been doing this whole thing
wrong for the past twenty-odd years. We never expressed affection toward
one another; instead, we took every opportunity to criticize each other
in some deluded obsession with eliminating every shortcoming in the
pursuit of perfection. We’ve always been a family of actions over words,
preferring pushing to praising, and letting “put on a jacket, it’s cold
outside” stand in for “I love you.”
Any of my closest friends could tell you that I ride a rollercoaster
of emotions when I talk about my complicated childhood—anger, sadness
and resentment being the frontrunners. But I’m tired of being angry at
So I’m writing this letter to unpack my unsaid words, to thank you
for all that you’ve done for me and to tell you that I love you. It’s
about time we started, don’t you think?
I was born in Harbin, China, in 1989, a time when you were trying to
leave the country—no easy feat, in Deng Xiaoping’s regime—to start a
better life abroad. A one-in-a-million opportunity arose for you to
pursue graduate studies at Queen’s University, and you took it. You had
to. So Grandma and Grandpa raised me in Harbin until I was 5, when life
had stabilized enough in Canada for you to bring me over. I was excited
to finally meet my real parents and start my life in Canada, but I had
no recollection of you—so when you returned in January of 1995, you felt
like distant relatives.
When Dad came back, I slept with Grandma and Grandpa in their
bedroom, as I had done all my life. They were my parents, as far as I
Liu,First Summer in Canada
Liu, with his grandfather and grandmother, in 2011.
When we moved to Canada, life was an adjustment for a variety of
reasons. Whereas Grandma and Grandpa were gentle and patient, age and
wisdom had not yet calmed your fiery tempers. I often felt like you
regarded me as a defective product: you had not been present for my
early years, and so my idiosyncrasies left you confused and worried.
Perhaps, in the same way that you were strangers to me, your son also
felt like a foreigner to you. That rift would only widen as I adopted
the values and norms of a culture that you were unfamiliar with.
We fought often. If I tripped on my laces, I was clumsy. If I scored
below an A, I was stupid. If I wanted to hang out with my friends, I was
wasting my time. I grew to resent the pressure you put on me, resolving
to make your lives as difficult as you were making mine. I ran away
from home in 2005 after a particularly bad fight, staying at a different
friend’s house every day for a week. I spoke dismissively about you,
told you I hated you, and that I couldn’t wait to leave the house. But
privately, I yearned for your love and affection. I often fantasized
about having the family I saw in the movies—the ones
where everyone would talk like best friends and hug each other hello and
I grudgingly continued down the path you laid out for me—getting into
a prestigious business school and landing a stable nine-to-five
job—until I couldn’t anymore. My job after graduation was at a top
accounting firm, and it could not have been a worse fit for me. My
superiors eventually caught on – in 2012, barely eight months into
the job, I was laid off.
Liu,Graduation Day with Mom and Dad
I was so embarrassed as I cleaned out my things in front of the
entire office, but worse to me was the shame of having to tell you what
happened. I considered throwing myself off my balcony to avoid facing
you. Instead I made the decision to forge a path I could be proud of. I promised myself I would face you when I knew what that path would be.
That month, through a well-timed Craigslist ad, I found my way onto
the set of a Guillermo del Toro movie as a minimum-wage extra and
instantly fell in love with acting and filmmaking. I checked Craigslist
every morning afterwards, applying for anything and everything I could. A
few months later I booked my first national commercial and, unable to
keep my new life from you any more, I finally came out to you as an
actor. Five years later, serendipitous as it may seem, I am now playing
myself on TV: a troubled kid, burdened by his relationship to his
parents, trying to find his place in the world.
Today, although our relationship is the best it’s ever been, we
still rarely talk about the past. I often catch myself replaying some of
our worst confrontations in my head; it’s the unfortunate byproduct of a
life spent mostly in conflict with you. But something is changing in me
too, and I’m finding myself looking at the events of my childhood not
through my lens, but through yours.
Liu, flanked by his parents, at his graduation from Western University.
In hindsight, I know that you were doing the best you could. Money
was always tight, and so you worked hard and often; the alternative
would have meant all of us going hungry. You pushed me as hard as you
could so that I would never have to know the struggle of not knowing
where my next meal would come from. And when I seemed to be squandering
all that you had worked towards, you became frustrated. I would have
been too. All I wanted as a child was a safe space, but there was no
such thing for you—the threat of poverty was too great for you to risk
taking your foot off the gas.
Despite some bumpy roads along the way, I believe that you have
succeeded at everything you’ve set out to do. You built a better life
for me. You made sure that I never had to worry about things like
student debt or spending money. You instilled in me the idea that
nothing could be taken for granted in this world, and that if I wanted
something badly enough, I had to earn it through work. You made me into
everything I am today—hardworking, ambitious, resilient—and I wouldn’t
trade that for anything.
In November, you attended a screening of Kim’s Convenience at
the Glenn Gould Theatre in Toronto. It was the first time you had
attended any of my shows or events, and although I tried to downplay it,
I was giddy with excitement on the inside. It was a perfect night: I
was surrounded by the love of my friends and family, and it was better
than anything I saw in those movies with the parents I dreamed of
having. It took 28 years, but I finally realized that was the kind of relationship that I want with you every day. No more damaged kid. No more anger.
So it’s with a full heart that I want to tell you that I am grateful
for all the gifts and privileges you bestowed upon me. I am so proud of
everything you have achieved in your careers, despite overwhelming odds.
You are my heroes and my inspirations, and I work hard every day not
because it’s what you expect of me, but because it’s what you taught me
to expect of myself.
我以身为你们的儿子而深感自豪. 让我最感恩的, 是你们一直以来对我的无私奉献和支持, 以及你们所作出的牺牲.
Thank you. I love you. And don’t forget to bundle up; it’s cold outside these days.