Letting Chinese American young people know about the Old China Trade—and how American merchants made huge fortunes from it—is important because it roots their heritage in a broader, often overlooked chapter of American history. It’s not just about pride; it’s about understanding the complex interplay of economics, culture, and power that shaped both their ancestral homeland and their current one. Here’s why it matters:

First, the Old China Trade (roughly from the late 18th to mid-19th century) was a foundational piece of early American economic growth. American merchants traded furs, sandalwood, and later opium for Chinese tea, silk, porcelain, and other luxury goods. This wasn’t small change—families like the Astors and Forbes built generational wealth off it. The port of Salem, Massachusetts, for instance, became a hub for this trade, and its profits helped fund America’s industrial takeoff. For Chinese American youth, knowing this shows how their ancestral culture wasn’t just a passive backdrop but a driver of global commerce that enriched the U.S. It’s a point of connection to America’s story, even if it’s a complicated one.

Second, it highlights the duality of cultural exchange and exploitation. The trade brought Chinese aesthetics—like porcelain designs and tea culture—into American homes, shaping tastes and trends. But it also had a darker side: American merchants, alongside the British, got entangled in the opium trade, which devastated Chinese communities and contributed to the Opium Wars. This isn’t a simple “feel-good” history—it’s messy and real. For young Chinese Americans, understanding this complexity can foster a more nuanced view of their heritage and America’s role in the world. It’s a chance to grapple with how profit sometimes came at the expense of others, including their own ancestors.

Third, it counters the narrative of Chinese Americans as perpetual “outsiders.” Too often, their story in the U.S. starts with exclusion—think the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882—or is framed through stereotypes like the “model minority.” But the Old China Trade shows that Chinese influence was part of America’s fabric well before the first major waves of immigration. It flips the script: Chinese goods, ideas, and markets were shaping America while it was still figuring out what it meant to be a nation. For young people, this can be empowering—it’s a reminder that their roots aren’t just tied to struggle but also to shaping global history.

Finally, it’s a practical lesson in economics and power. The fortunes made from the Old China Trade didn’t just disappear—they turned into banks, railroads, and real estate, laying the groundwork for some of today’s elite institutions. Chinese American youth, often navigating their own paths in a competitive society, can draw lessons from how wealth and influence were built, and how cultural exchange can be both a bridge and a battleground.

Telling this story doesn’t need to be dry. Imagine a VR exhibit for America250 where kids “sail” on a merchant ship from Boston to Canton (Guangzhou), bartering for silk while dodging pirates—or a graphic novel about a Chinese tea merchant and an American trader striking deals in the 1800s. It’s about making history tangible, not just textbook stuff.

What do you think—would knowing this history change how Chinese American youth see their place in the U.S.? Or are there other pieces of the past you’d prioritize for them to learn?