Sau takes slow, careful steps from the Grand Street train station as more people come pouring out from behind her. There’s an elderly woman selling steamed rice wrapped in bamboo leaves on a newspaper on the ground. Sau moves past her, careful not to knock any over. She walks slowly four blocks over to Open Door Senior Center, on the edge of Chinatown and Little Italy. By the time she makes it to the kitchen at 8 am, she is only the second to arrive. She begins preparing meals for the day.
The 7,000 seniors in Manhattan’s Chinatown navigate their days with incredible independence even though more than half live below the poverty line. Overlooked and ignored by the rapidly changing city around them, they look to each other for support, and some try to function on their own.
Sau’s back is bent slightly at the middle from decades of leaning over a stovetop or cutting board or sewing machine. Her hands, knobbed and smooth from work, haven’t stopped working since she arrived from Hong Kong in 1975. Her commute from Sheepshead Bay to Chinatown takes an hour each way.
The people she serves at work are not unlike her. The 200 or so seniors spend a majority of their day there taking turns on a karaoke machine, chatting with friends, or playing chinese chess. Some of the more active seniors take advantage of the ping pong table in the back or join the dance group that performs at community events.
Hau is in is early seventies and lives with his wife in a small apartment a few blocks away from Open Doors. He spends most of his days here, in the ping pong room. He’s one of the best players at the center and can beat almost any challenger handedly. He moves lightly on his feet, but never overexerts or moves more than he should. “That’s the good thing about ping pong,” he says. “I’ve been playing for so long, I know exactly what I have to do. Never more, never less.”
One of the lucky seniors, he is retired. After working for a shipping company in Chinatown, he and his wife have saved enough to live comfortably in addition to the help they receive from their two adult children. They have lived in Chinatown since they immigrated in the late seventies. He’s never left because of convenience and his rent-controlled apartment. All of his friends live nearby, and his grocer, butcher, laundromat, and train station are all within a two block radius of his apartment.“There isn’t really a better deal for living in Manhattan,” he says laughing. A bell rings indicating that lunch is ready and his eyes light up.
After cooking and serving meals at Open Door, she and the rest of the kitchen staff take all the pots and pans to be cleaned at another kitchen facility on Chrystie Street. (A younger coworker in his fifties rolls the cart over.) They clean and begin preparing meals for the next day. Sau packs some leftover boiled sweet potatoes and cornbread for herself and takes the train home.
The plight of Chinatown’s seniors isn’t unique to the area– other ethnic enclaves in the city have shown alarming rates of poverty among immigrant groups. In Sunset Park, a densely populated immigrant neighborhood, half of the foreign-born citizens are living in poverty. Flushing is home 52 percent of all Korean seniors living in poverty.
Ethnic enclaves have created a unique situation for many of the immigrant seniors living in New York. Chinatown’s self-sustaining ethos has provided more freedom for it seniors, while at the same time limiting them. While the neighborhood has everything these seniors may need, the language barrier to receive resources outside of the area is extremely difficult to overcome. In addition to this, many seniors who live alone lack any exposure to the resources provided in the community itself.
The Chinese Planning Council started as a grassroots movement in the mid-sixties in response to the rapid influx of Chinese immigrants after the Immigration Reform Act of 1965. It helped provide resources to help families settle into their new homes. Today the organization offers everything from education and training services, child care services, advocacy, and home care attendants. The CPC also helped to establish Open Doors in 1972 as one of the first senior centers catered to the Chinese community.
—
The Father’s Heart Ministries has served hot breakfast in their Alphabet City building since 1997. On any Saturday, the line outside stretches around the block and continues for another. The number of people served each week reaches over 600 and is growing, say Carol Vedral, the Co-founder and executive director of the program. The Father’s Heart sees everyone from homeless, to low income families of all ethnicities. But recently the program has been seeing more elderly Chinese attendees. They’re the earliest to show up on the line though they travel the farthest distance, huddling in bunches in the cold. “For some of these people, this is the only hot meal they’ll have this week,” she says.
As the doors open, a band plays music to welcome guests that echoes loudly off the high ceilings. The thirty-something volunteers line the walls ushering guests to their seats. The Chinese seniors come in together in pockets sitting at the same table. As soon as they’re seated, volunteer serves start giving each person a plate with eggs, hashbrowns, and a slice of bread. Another server brings bowls of cereal and canned peaches. When seated, they eat quickly, taking multiple servings. Though it’s not allowed per food regulations, some take the hot food home, sliding an egg into a plastic bag under the table.
One table of Chinese seniors take the bread from their plates and make a small pile in the middle. They smile at me when I ask in broken Chinese if they don’t like bread. Each seat in the 200 person dining room is filled. As soon as someone finishes their meal, their place setting is cleared and cleaned by volunteers with pit crew efficiency. The processes is repeated until everyone has eaten. By the time they’re done eating, the table’s pile of bread has grown into a small mountain. Before they get up to leave, two women at the table take the bread and pack it into tupperware containers in their bags.
Many of Chinatown’s seniors are trapped. Unable to leave their community, too prideful to ask for assistance from family, and limited by finances, the seniors in Chinatown are barely scraping by. These “forgotten ones” live quiet, strife-filled lives on their own.
—
Despite the resources available, many seniors in Chinatown still struggle to make ends meet. Either because they don’t know about the resources available (language barriers are often the main cause) or they are too prideful to take help from others. Walking through the Chinatown, you’re bound to see a “canner.” At night, these elderly women dig through trash collecting bottles and cans for recycling. They sort the materials and carry the large bags (or push them in a cart if they’re so lucky) and bring them to a collector who buys the sorted bags off the canners.
In a new phenomenon, other seniors pressed to make ends meet will ride one of the many casino busses from Chinatown or Flushing, not to gamble, but the make a few extra bucks. Seniors purchase bus tickets which includes gambling credit from the casino, take the 2 hour bus ride to sell the credit to a casino goer, and return home with $18 in their pockets.
In August, The Atlantic covered Kin-Sing Ng, an elderly woman living alone in Chinatown. The mini documentary follows her on a normal night in the winter– digging through the trash at a bakery, looking for bread to eat. She then meets an elderly friend who trades some of her bread for a few dumplings, and later her younger, middle-aged friend give her some soup that she takes home and eats in a cockroach ridden apartment. The video ends saying that sometime after the film was shot, Ng was struck by a car on her regular evening walk. The video shocked many when it was first released and prompted the question– where were her children?
The difficulties of navigating senior care in a Chinese-American context is difficult. These ethnic enclaves formed as a main point of entry for many immigrants. But after going to school and finding higher paying jobs, most of the next generation wants to leave. Seniors are less likely to part ways with their home because of the familiarity with their environment. The level of independence is much greater in Chinatown, than it is in other ethnic enclaves in Queens and Brooklyn.
Culturally, it’s customary for the elderly to live with their children, but in New York, it happens less and less as space and cultural change becomes a major barrier. For the children of immigrants, having their parents live with them isn’t always a viable option, and many times, the parents are comfortable and feel independent in the ethnic enclave. At the same time, this leaves seniors uncared for while their extended families live elsewhere.
Sau comes home to the Brooklyn home she’s lived in since the seventies. When she gets home she warms the sweet potato in the microwave and warms some soup she made last night. She eats and goes to bed early to be well rested for the next day. Occasionally she gets a call from her only daughter– my mother, to check in on her.