EchoShadow

a story of unexpected connection

Chuang Che, Untitled, 1982

I. A family history

When I saw that people were able to communicate on the internet when they were across the ocean, I hated myself for being born a few years too early to catch that time. 

— my mom

My dad came to the United States in 1992. My mom came two years later in 1994, and eight years before she had me. Many of my friends are the children of similar immigrants—born in China and moved to the US for grad school with no money and no backup plan. 

There is something to be said about uprooting your life and putting yourself in a situation where failure isn't an option. It’s hard for someone from my position to appreciate, but it definitely changes you as a person. Little anecdotes here and there don’t do the whole story justice, but they're the best I have. 

My dad looks back fondly on the time where Burger King had a dollar Whopper deal. He didn’t have a car, and couldn’t afford to take the bus everytime he wanted a sandwich, so he would buy ten whoppers at a time and eat them for the rest of the week. The first one was great, but by the end of the week they were cold and you were just sick of Whoppers. But then he would do it all over again next week. My friend's dad has a similar story, except with donuts: there was a period of his life where he lived on three donuts a day, one for each meal.

I'm fortunate, but also a bit unfortunate, to have never experienced true hardship—at least not like my parents. I order UberEats and had a dining plan at school. I might not ever know what it's like to have to make something work in order to survive. If my parents couldn't pay for school, or find jobs, they would lose their visas and be forced out of the country. They left China for a reason and there was nowhere else to go. I'm embarrassed to say, but the worst case for me is I move back in with my parents while I figure my life out.

My dad paid my mom through school with credit cards. I guess 30 years ago, balance transfer fees weren’t a thing—he would pay tuition with a credit card and open new credit cards to pay off the older balances. It resulted in a long chain of cards paying off cards until he made enough money to finally pay off the balances on his own.

Despite the hardships, my mom considers these parts of her life to be some of the best. There was a sense of optimism and it can only get better from here that permeated daily life. I suppose there is something oddly reassuring about grinding out life and chipping away at what's in front of you. It focuses you and forces you to cherish every bit of progress. They had a few  pressing worries—but only a few.

After finding a job after graduating, Fei [my dad] borrowed $900 from a classmate to buy his first car, an '85 Dodge. Except for not having air conditioning, the car had many good features, such as being able to run (though not fast), a bench seat in the front that could fit three people, and a spacious interior that could hold all of his belongings: a few boxes of books and clothes, and a small table.

— my mom

Immigrants, especially those from my parents’ generation, typically have the skills and credentials to succeed—they are all college educated, most with graduate degrees. But in the US, they lack advocates and people who appreciate their efforts. Our parents are scrappy and know what it's like to be at rock bottom. They understand what it means to live with urgency and have a unique appreciation for hard work. Family has and always will come first.

At the same time, they find it difficult to take shortcuts. I argue with my parents over working hard versus working smart. They sometimes don't fully appreciate the few, but notable, advantages they have in life (like having an undergraduate degree before coming to the US) . There are so many aspects of this story that I want to explore—hardship, risk, failure—but this story is fundamentally about people. In the bits and pieces I hear from my parents, I keep coming back to the names and characters they met along the way. How do immigrants, people with little status and network, create the conditions for success?

For centuries, the answer has been the formation of ethnic enclaves—the Chinatowns, Little Tokyos, and Jewish neighborhoods of the world. They require tremendous trust, coordination, and effort. But small groups born of necessity can turn into thriving cities. Within ethnic enclaves, life-changing connections are routine.

My parents didn't live in a Chinatown, but they found community among other Chinese students and new grads. My dad frequently recounts his first Thanksgiving in the US. My mom wouldn’t come to the US for another two years, and my dad's only connection was my aunt a few states away. My aunt's boyfriend at the time drove from Boston to Albany and back in the middle of the night to pick up my dad so he didn't have to spend Thanksgiving alone.

My parents found pockets of community in unexpected areas. They placed their lives in the hands of friendly strangers, making themselves vulnerable but also opening themselves up to profound connection. These physical communities served as safe havens and entry points for immigrants to enter unfamiliar worlds.

After settling down, the role of these physical communities changed. The daily grind to survive became less intense, and priorities shifted to starting a family. The next big milestone was having kids and it required a totally different community and set of people to get through. In some ways, becoming a parent is similar to immigrating—suddenly placed in an unfamiliar situation, with high stakes and no option of quitting. 

In 2004, ten years after first landing in the United States, my mom found another enclave, except this time, it was online. The community, EchoShadow, is best described as a digital phenomenon. A little-known spot on the grand map of the internet of which traces barely exist today. It was weird and wonderful, and I feel the need to tell the story of it before the internet forgets.

II. Echo of laugh, shadow of love

On the way to our house, this mom's family asked her "So what's your friend's name? What does she do?" 

She didn't know my name or what I did, but when she got here, we chatted like old friends and her family said "I thought you said you didn't know her.”

The truth is we know each other so well on EchoShadow. We know our kids' names, we saw our kids' pictures, we shared personal stories, but we never revealed our real names.

— my mom

Before EchoShadow, there was Wenxue City. Wenxue City is a social bulletin site, similar to Reddit, for Chinese expats. It’s still very popular today with nearly 3 million monthly visitors. Within Wenxue City, there are subforums for different topics, and one of these subforums is for new parents—a place to share the experiences and anxieties of raising kids for the first time.

While niche, Wenxue City is still a big community. The idea of EchoShadow arose out of an argument on Wenxue City. I don’t know the details, but there was a growing need for a tighter, more intimate cohort of moms. So, a group of a few dozen moms migrated from Wenxue City to their own forum on Yahoo Groups.

This was a short-lived migration because, spoiler, Yahoo Groups sucked. In a true moment of “necessity is the mother of invention,” one of the moms enlisted her husband, who worked in IT, to set up a custom website for the group. They built a home server and wrote (or pirated) a software package that was essentially a mini Wenxue City, complete with sub forums and moderation tools. In the spring of 2004, echoshadow.com was born. The name originates from the mom's online signature, "echo of laugh, shadow of love."

At its peak, EchoShadow had maybe three to four hundred moms from all over the world. Today, some of my mom's closest friends are EchoShadow moms. She has met many, but knows many more by only their usernames.

In the beginning, EchoShadow moms were all in their first years of parenting. The conversations were mostly about raising babies—sleep training, toilet training, which car seat or high chair to buy, and of course, baby pictures. The conversations later evolved to be about daycare and preschool, then about extracurricular activities, music lessons, and sports. 

As people got to know each other, they branched out and things even got heated at times. In 2007, after the Virginia Tech shooting, EchoShadow was split in an intense debate on gun control. EchoShadow also began to develop a culture—beginning with little traditions and idiosyncrasies, and eventually expanding to physical gatherings and projects.

In the early days, the forum introduced a publicID for users to post anonymously. The first ID was "guess" and used for people to guess baby pictures. Later, everyone was required to register a unique ID to post—moms frequently named themselves in the format of "X mom." For instance, my mom was "辣妈" which was short for "mom who loves spicy food." Other names (roughly translated) included "Big YangYang's mom" and "Little Wolf's mom."

In the summer of 2004, EchoShadow had its very first in-person gathering. Moms in the DC area organized a baby get-together where I met my best friend, Josh. Over the years, there were many other gatherings and in-person events—primarily in the DC, NY/NJ, and Bay areas where the concentration of Echo moms was greatest. The Echo network also saw families host each other. My mom hosted Echo moms visiting from Seattle, Ohio, and New Jersey. Similarly, my family visited Echo families in China, Toronto, and California.

Me and Josh at an EchoShadow meetup in 2005

I have trouble describing EchoShadow in a few words. Capturing how tight knit the group was and how they were able to organize and mobilize is difficult because they are outliers among online communities. My favorite story, the one that captures what kind of community EchoShadow was, is when they made a book. 

For Mother's Day in 2005, Echo moms began sharing stories about their mothers. As more people shared stories, the community had the idea to create an essay competition. A committee was formed, a deadline was set, and keychains with the EchoShadow logo were created as a prize. The competition aspect was later scrapped, but EchoShadow was able to collectively produce 18 essays which were compiled and printed into a book. My parents still have copies in our basement today.

Other notable projects include a holiday card collection, a mommy and me event, and many fundraisers. One was for a boy in China with Leukemia in need of a bone marrow transplant. The story made its way to EchoShadow and the community began to raise money for the boy. EchoShadow also helped its members—raising money for a mom who lost her home to hurricane Katrine, and birthday gifts for a kid whose mom died of cancer.

It's these stories of kindness and sacrifice that make me excited about digital communities. They’re proof that authentic connection can be found on the internet, to the same depth or even more, as offline. The greatest thing the internet does is enable us to meet people we otherwise wouldn't know exist. Today, your best friends can be online personas you've never met in person. We can accomplish more because of who we know and who we can coordinate with.

To me, it's the ultimate aspiration of any online community: EchoShadow created life-changing connections, mobilized and organized its members, and filled a deep need in a small group of people's lives.

I don't know if another EchoShadow will ever exist again. EchoShadow was created and thrived under specific circumstances. The members were in the right stage of life, had just left their previous online home, and—possibly entirely by chance—promoted a culture of vulnerability and authenticity.

The community shut down in 2014. There wasn't exactly one reason—server issues, the rise of WeChat, kids growing up—these things all contributed to the decline and end of EchoShadow. Today, the community still exists, though in a different form.

Rather than a single platform, WeChat groups have taken EchoShadow's place. There are different groups dedicated to travel, cooking, kids, and more. But to join, you need a referral and someone to vouch that you're part of the original echoshadow.com group.

My mom still keeps in touch with her Echo friends. We had lunch with a few last Spring. I hear updates about where kids go to college, what they’re up to, but I get the sense it’s a distinctly different feeling than ten years ago.

But just because something isn't what it used to be, doesn't mean it wasn't once great. I like to imagine that, for people like my mom, EchoShadow was like that unfamiliar figure you meet on a pilgrimage or kind stranger that helps you navigate a new city. An ephemeral connection that you remember for the rest of your life.

III. An epilogue of sorts

Another aspect of the EchoShadow story is the kids. I grew up as an "Echo baby" and many of my earliest interactions were with other Echo babies. Meeting Josh is probably the most salient example of how EchoShadow changed my life. We met in a park in 2004 and spent the next 19 years growing up together. In the past 12 months alone, we’ve lived together, visited Europe together, and started a podcast together. We have plans to continue this well past the age where it’s socially acceptable.

OG friend

However, I know the experience for us kids is incomparable to what our parents had. Most of us just follow each other on Instagram and visit every once in a while, usually when our moms want to catch up. We don't have the sense of camaraderie that comes with living through a transformative period of life together. But EchoShadow has shaped us in less conspicuous ways.

I spoke to some other Echo kids to hear their similar stories. I heard from one who made friends with an Echo kid in the same dance class at 4 years old. Later on, they helped them move their stuff into college and spent Chinese New Year together. A little connection that culminated into a kind act nearly 20 years later. Another Echo kid I talked with credits EchoShadow’s group purchase of Singapore Math textbooks with his journey into academics and math competitions. 

The biggest thing we have might be a quick look of recognition and understanding when we hear how someone else grew up. A hint of ah, I gotchu from being raised in households that constantly talked to each other. I'm a bit sad that us Echo kids don't have the same community as our moms. But even more, I'm worried that only a few of us really understand the impact the community had on our parents.

I set out to write this story as a narrative piece, something you might read in the New Yorker or listen to on an episode of Serial. But honestly, I'm not sure exactly what story I want to tell. I’m not sure who, if anyone, will resonate with it if it didn’t touch their life. I’m not sure if the experience I’ve described is too niche for most people to care about. While the history of EchoShadow is interesting, it’s not really what I need everyone to know. Only how much it meant to people like my mom.

The immigrant experience, and specifically the one my parents' generation went through, is under-appreciated. I think we’ve come to believe that because it was common, it wasn’t notable.

— me

Writing this ending, it feels like this piece has turned into a way to just learn more about my parents. A common theme my friends and I discuss on our podcast is how growing up in different parts of the country shaped who we are. The conclusion I’ve seemingly come to is that, despite huge variations in how we grew up, we get along because of our parents’ shared experience. They were changed by their experience and it trickled down into how we were raised and how we’ve come to view the world.

Listening to how my parents navigated that time of their life just makes sense. I don’t know what I would have done in the same situation, but the stories of family and optimism on the backdrop of scarcity and uncertainty feel perfectly set in the narrative of how life should go.

I understand this isn’t the satisfying conclusion that makes a piece great to read. I’m not able to tie the story of EchoShadow into a nice narrative. I haven’t figured out what I want someone reading to take away. I haven’t deconstructed the elements that made EchoShadow succeed nor do I really want to. I honestly just want to sit down with my parents and hear more of their story. Starting as early as they can remember and ending with today.

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Thank you to my parents for taking the time to tell their story. Also thanks Manansh for reading drafts.