As a young child I grew up practicing many different beliefs I felt had religious context. Every Lunar New Year we would be given red envelopes, and we would pray to an alter of Guan Yu that sat in the living room year round. We would light incents and eat certain foods. All of these practices felt like a religion, but when I curiously asked my parents what religion we are they simply said Chinese. At the tender age of 10 I took this as, I don’t have a religion, I have a nationality. But as time grew and I studied the traditions of Buddhism, Confucianism, and Daosim I began to piece together what it meant to be “Chinese.”
My family coming from the south China and Hong Kong had the culture influences of both of being part of a British colony, as well as a communist state. Both which did not promote a unified religion to be practiced. This gave way to a collage of local traditions, folklore, and family traditions. Raised with the traditional Confucianism values of family loyalty, etiquette, feng shui, and acquiring knowledge, combined with the idol worship of Gun Yum and Guan Yu, mixed with the