Taiwan's political divide fueled a gunman's rage. It also splits my family
After my parents got married, my Yeye went to my Ah-Gong's house in Taiwan to introduce himself.
Ah-Gong — my mom's father — refused to come to the door.
Yeye — my dad's father — was a waishengren, or someone who had arrived from mainland China in the 1940s.
As far as Ah-Gong was concerned, waishengren were oppressors who had taken over his country, hogged the best jobs, massacred civilians and jailed anyone who spoke against the government.
Even if he had come out, Ah-Gong couldn't have articulated his unhappiness to Yeye.
Ah-Gong was fluent in Japanese, in addition to Taiwanese, since he had grown up under Japanese colonial rule. He spoke little Mandarin. The gulf between my grandfathers couldn't be bridged with words, even though Yeye had brought a friend to interpret.
Since that day in 1970 when my grandfathers went their separate ways
