38. KITTY: A NON-CHINESE WOMAN IN CHINATOWN

In 1959, I was in grade 2 – seven years old. That’s the time when a child can still be delighted in small things and is not yet too self-conscious to reveal pleasure. Moreover, winter season encompasses Christmas, a time of giving gifts. My story is about a gift.

By the time I was in grade 2, I had had ample opportunity to be taught by school, books, and TV what Christmas in the USA (and by association Canada) should look like, should feel like, and know how Christmas in my Chinatown home looked nothing like that.

If I had any thought that these lessons on Christmas festivity were only a myth, I could walk down Queen Street and see these very symbols of Christmas cheer displayed in many store windows.

At his restaurant, my father hung wreaths that resembled bottlebrush bristles dyed green then frosted and twisted into circles before being fastened with red ribbon. A string of shiny letters that spelt out “Merry Christmas” adorned the wall above the coffee urns. In contrast, our Chinatown home had only the odd Christmas card sent from out-of-town friends and acquaintances.

Even though I was led to believe everyone else (meaning non-Chinese) had Christmas and enjoyed the various offerings, I doubt that either my brother or I felt deprived by their absence. We just knew our home was different.

Yet around Christmas, my mother would take us to a store – Rosbergs with its specialty departments – and let us pick out a toy that met with her criteria. That’s what happened at Christmas: no Santa, no surprises.

But, one year, there was Kitty.

Kitty was what my mother referred to as a ji gei – a prostitute. Of course, at the time, I had no idea what that was.

Kitty was non-Chinese and she did not dress like any woman whom I had ever seen. Of course, the majority of real live non-Chinese women I saw up close were teachers at school.

My mother really liked the way my teacher, Mrs. Clark, dressed: matching pullover-cardigan sets with a slim, tweed skirt and low heels.

The way Kitty dressed reminded me of the character Miss Kitty from the TV western series Gunsmoke. Miss Kitty was a dancehall girl who was a friend to Matt Dillon, the sheriff.

Perhaps, Kitty was not the true name of person whom I am writing about but rather the name my mother called her because of a seeming resemblance to the character in Gunsmoke. (Mother liked to watch westerns.)

Anyway, my Kitty wore perfume and came often to visit a Chinese man who lived on the ground floor in our building. On one of her visits, she brought gifts for my brother and me. I do not recall what my brother received but I do remember my gift.

Not because the gift had been something I had particularly desired (a plastic grooming set including a pretend compact and lipstick tube from one of the five-and-dime stores) but because it had been a surprise and it was totally frivolous: something foreign to our household.

I do not know if my mother approved, or disapproved, of my gift. Make-up was not something she especially valued. She seldom used make-up and then, only a touch of lipstick.

If anything, I think she might have evaluated the cost of the gift in terms of how it was cheaply made and wouldn’t stand up (Mother bought things that stood-up to wear and tear) and, perhaps more importantly, what it would cost her as now she was indebted to Kitty for her kindness to us.

Kitty was a blip in my childhood memories. She was there and then gone. I hadn’t thought much about her until this past year when I read Incorrigible by Velma Emerson.

The book is an account of Demerson’s persecution and incarceration for her relationship with a Chinese man in Ontario.

In 1939, “Demerson had been picked up under Ontario’s Female Refuges Act (1897-1964), used to arrest and imprison women from ages 15 to 35 if they were found begging, drunk or were suspected of leading ‘an idle or dissolute life.’ Anyone could make such a charge. Judges were only required to make ‘reasonable inquiry into the truth.’” (The Star, July 20, 2017) 

Demerson had been deemed incorrigible for her interracial relationship and punished under the Act. The Act was not repealed until 1964.

Today, I can only wonder if Kitty’s quiet visits to 224 Park Street were influenced by the Act and if it was responsible for their cessation.

I look back at Post 12: Chinese Lives and see anew the interracial challenges for Harry and Rebecca Chon in 1911.