On an evening during the mid 1990’s, I sat at a local bar named Waldo’s. It’s what you’d expect from a bar, except that they also played live music. Occasionally, The Beatniks would play here; they covered many classic tunes. I remember mostly the Beatles covers. I hang with some of the friends that work at the cafeteria in the next building.
Naturally, I chat with a number of other people at the bar; one sharply dressed Indian man chats with me for a bit. Eventually, he pauses and declares, “Isn’t it ironic, here we talk… both of us similar as Indians, yet different.” I know precisely what he meant. He immigrated from the Asian country of India, and I am (Native American) Indian. Except I’m not an Indigenous person, not even close. I was born from two Chinese parents.
I am absolutely Chinese; I grew up speaking Cantonese with my parents at home. Yes, I understand the culture from where I grew up. The tendency to lean towards collectivism versus individualism runs in my blood. However, I don’t accept it unconditionally. For instance, I will push back on my elders when I disagree. However, my genealogy is entirely Chinese.
I don’t look the part
I have been mistaken as Eskimo, Indigenous, Hawaiian, and a few others. It doesn’t offend me anymore, but it does spark curiosity. If one imagines a second-generation Chinese American, it wouldn’t be a picture of me. I pierced my ear in the mid-80’s, which was downright rebellious for a Chinese male teen. Once I no longer needed to keep short hair for work (I waited on tables), I stopped cutting my hair short. I’ve sported a ponytail for literally decades now.
Furthermore, I don’t speak with a perceptible accent anymore. I often speak with idioms and make cultural references that most wouldn’t necessarily expect from a second-generation Chinese American. Additionally, I’m not soft-spoken like many expect. While a number of factors (such as eye shape and possibly skin tone) definitely give away what I’m not (Caucasian), they don’t necessarily indicate what I am (Chinese). The one definitive giveaway was my surname.
A friend once observed me reading A. Magazine (an Asian American magazine) and responded with, “You’re the least Asian person I know…” That comment stung a little, but truthfully, I didn’t conduct my life that way. I had few Asian friends, and we didn’t conduct ourselves like Asian people.
Others don’t look the part
Many years ago, I watched a television show called Boston Public. The show centered around the faculty in a Boston area public high school. I thoroughly enjoyed the show and recommend it. However, I won’t elaborate on the plot or characters on this post, except for one character and one scene. The character, a young office administrator, played by Rashida Jones, explained that her parents are of different races (one black and one white). Her words were, “I am mulatto”. That term has now fallen out of favor, but it stuck to mind.
This surprised me; I would’ve speculated that she was entirely white. Jones is, in fact, the daughter of Quincy Jones who has had a long, distinguished career in the music industry, and yes, he’s black. I have since watched other movies with her, like “I Love You, Man”, where I completely forgot this little tidbit about her.
I’ve recently started watching Suits and felt the same about Meghan Markle. Her parents are of different races, and her character is of similar genealogy, occasionally referred to as a woman of color. Though honestly, if they cast her as a Caucasian woman, it would be completely believable.
It’s not simply about who you are, what you look like (or more explicitly how others see you) also matters.
That new term
As the pandemic hit in 2020, we were all shut in. As many people continued to use the term “China virus”, there was a sharp rise in crime targeting people like me. Yes, we knew that using that term would exacerbate it, and we (the WHO) changed the standard in 2015. Asian hate crimes increased by 300-400% in some places. And then at a rally, Trump despicably uses the term “Kung-Flu”. Make no mistake, that hurt people like me, either harassed, attacked, or even killed.
As I congregated with people like me online, I listened to Asian people like me talk about their experiences. Many were married to Caucasian spouses and had children. As I listened to them, I kept hearing the question, “What do your kids present as?” At first, that term was unfamiliar, but eventually I understood. To ‘present as’:
To act or seem to be identifiable as a particular sex, gender, or sexual orientation.
Or in this case, identifiable as a particular race. Learning that new term (to present as) elated me; I built more tools to help me navigate this space. However, a profound sadness quickly replaced that newfound sense of excitement.
Here’s the cold blunt reality. It doesn’t matter what people like me actually do or even what we actually are. The mere idea that someone may see me as Chinese may put me at mortal risk, while mistaking me as an Indigenous person may spare me. How does this not fill you with despair? We have literally done nothing wrong.
That’s not ‘a thing’
Yes, this absolutely is ‘a thing’. Simply because something does not impact your life (or anyone you personally know) does not mean it doesn’t exist. For example, as I attended the public school system in Florida, we were so poor that we were on the free lunch program. We simply went through the cafeteria line, got our lunch, and gave the cashier our number. Today, my circumstances are completely different; I personally know of no one who is poor enough so that their children qualify for the free lunch program, but that doesn’t mean that it ceases to exist.
When we talk about privilege, we don’t necessarily speak to getting some sort of a freebie. In fact, you probably don’t get any perceivable bonuses per se. You’re that figurative track and field athlete; you tell yourself that you had to run the 400 meters like everyone else on the track and maintain that you all started at the same time. “There is no privilege!” However, you fail to notice that their lanes had hurdles and yours did not.
Being your most authentic self
There’s an expression that we now use which is to be ‘your most authentic self’. We encourage you to be who you really are. This may mean that you are gay, straight, non-binary, cisgender, transgender, and any array of different races. Furthermore, there are now allies. We have the language for it now. People, like me, who will encourage you to find your most authentic self, as well as protect you as much as we can.
While the world is changing, it’s not changing fast enough. There are still instances where looking like what I actually am (Chinese) may put my life at risk. You may paint me as an alarmist. I never believed that I was in danger while standing on a platform waiting for the New York subway. The idea that I may be pushed off the platform onto the tracks… that I was intentionally pushed as the train approached, and in those final moments, helplessly knowing that I’d endure a painful death… that idea was completely foreign. Until I read the story about Michelle Go.
To never think (or need to think) about a horrific end like this, is in and of itself, a form of privilege. To deny that it happens, that it’s as bad as we describe, or to refuse to make changes to address it because it doesn’t affect you. That is its own type of abuse.
That said, I’ll completely defend your right to free speech and for you to use despicable terms like “Chinese virus” (even when you understand its implications). If nothing else, it helps to map out the figuratively minefield of assholes like you.