Tag Archives: posts in which i talk about race

All things on cable TV considered, I wish my hotel had porn…

I am trapped in a hotel in a Boston suburb. Therefore I did what I always do in this situation: I did the grown-up thing. I went to the bar and got myself multiple drinks, got myself drunk and depressed. Depressed. Apparently alcohol is a depressant. Shit! So that’s what I have been doing wrong. I am always a bit embarrassed by my being a sad, teary drunk. So it is not me. It is the alcohol.

Do you know what cures drunkenness and self-pity before you can say Xanax? A convenient case of indignant outrage. Courtesy of hotel cable TV. Yeah, smart ass. Not porn. I wish it were porn. At least it would not have left such a bad taste in my mouth.

Did you hear about this new anti-healthcare-reform commercial that’s said to be aired nation-wide, starting tomorrow?

The commercial that is getting lots of positive feedback on conservative blogs and websites shows a bunch of white people Euro-Americans looking into the camera, sprinkled in between with three non-white-looking people, and of course, with a mother and her toddler daughter who is sucking on her lollipop, all wide-eyed and innocent. The mother, looking into the camera, says, “I guess we are racists.” (Is your daughter even old enough to be against the healthcare reform? No? Then she is fine. We don’t know about you though. <– Just kidding! You people have no sense of humor… <– Just kidding! Again!! Did you see what I am trying to accomplish here? I slay me.) The commercial ends with a young, nice-looking African American* man saying, “I guess I am a racist.” (Congratulations, dude. You just got your one and most likely only starring role as an aspiring actor!)

* Someone is very proud of that ending. What a strong finish! See? It’s a black man = He cannot be racist = All the others lily white folks cannot be racist either. Hurray! Martyrs, all of us. “I am Spartacus!” *Cough Cough*

I am the Queen of Passive Aggressiveness. Yet I am floored by the rampant passive aggression exhibited in this video. They must have consulted the Italian, Chinese and Korean mothers in the world. (Sorry, ladies, I love you guys. But have you seen yourselves in the soap operas? Yikes!)

This is what I call Preemptive Jackassery. This is similar, similar ONLY in my poorly-formed analogy since I have had too much to drink at the hotel bar by myself, and NOT in degree, to my calling myself a bitch which liberates me from doing all bitchy things.

“I guess I am a bitch BUT your baby really is ass ugly.”

“I guess I am a bitch BUT those jeans do make your butt look fat.”

“I guess I am a bitch BUT my honor-roll student can totally kick your bully kid’s ass.

Or your calling yourself a dick so you can kick baby kittens.

Or my husband’s saying preemptively, “Honey, I know I am an asshole” just to get out of doing housework throughout the entire marriage.

Remember how Newt Gingrich called Judge Sonia Sotomayor a Racist?

Finally, one thing we can all agree on: we are ALL racists. What’d ya know?

Well, what’d ya know? There’s more.

Sarah Palin reportedly left Hawaii (where she went to the first of the four colleges she attended) because, cough cough, the presence of so many Asians and Pacific Islanders made her uncomfortable: “They were a minority type thing and it wasn’t glamorous, so she came home.”

I have to say, she is being quite brave by still wanting to run for the President in 2012 despite her fear. Think of all the Asian people she needs to meet when she runs for POTUS AND all the Asian countries she needs to visit when she becomes POTUS? She will need to meet with Chinese government officials, mostly male most likely, and shake their hands. Yeeeewwww! It’s going to be like the Indiana Jones trope: “Snakes, why did it have to be snakes?”

“Asians, why do they have to be Asians?”

You go girl. Confront your phobia.

The world needs a new meme “I comment therefore I am”

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Unknown Mami over at well, Unknown Mami, struck gold with this great idea of creating yet another Internet Meme:

I comment therefore I am.

The idea is: we express ourselves, in addition to through our own blogs, also by leaving traces of ourselves with our comments all over the interweb. Unknown Mami decided that all of our comments are worthy enough to be turned into real posts. Because she herself is a prolific commentator, she is turning this into a weekly feature on her blog, otherwise the post would get too long… she said.

An idea that cuts down the actual writing? Esp. in the blasted month of NaBloPoMo? I am 100% down with it. I will at least try it this once. Take that NaBloPoMo! Another DAY bites the dust! Besides, I always do believe that comments are often the funniest, sometimes the scariest (i.e. on the political blogs), yet always the most revealing part of a website/blog.

I thought some of you may want to play too! So gather up all of your stellar comments: all your humorous, ironic, sarcastic, poignant, illuminating, sincere, pontificating comments, and turn them into a post.

The following are selected evidence of my insomnia, my restlessness, when I roam the earth in search of my next victim… Again, warning: discussions of Race and Stereotypes abound…

In response to #11 Asian Girls on the list that Stuff White People Like…

Disclaimer/Explanation: The way I see it, this site, Stuff White People Like, employees a tongue-in-cheek, straight-faced, sardonic, wry humor that I recognize in myself. When I saw #11 Asian Girls, I thought it was hilariously awesome. If we cannot laugh at ourselves, we have no right to laugh at the others. That’s how I view this world. Of course, of all the “items” listed on this HUMOR site, #11 has proven to be the most controversial and incited the most comments, and heated debates. Please be warned, and I am being serious, many most of the 17,295 (as of today) comments are lewd (even by my standard) and malicious. And in case you wonder, yes, I did read through many pages of the previous comments, before I left mine on Page 454. I considered it to be Cultural Study. Or as Sun Tzu said, “Know your enemy and know yourself and you can fight a hundred battles without a single failure.” (I have to google this shit up too. So no, just because I am Chinese doesn’t mean I have studied the Art of War…)

p.s. Something funny: I actually “tracked down” the genius who wrote #11 Asian Girls, and he wrote, “Yes, I am the non-white guy that is part of StuffWhitePeopleLike. Please stop sending my hate mail…”

Without further delay, here is one of the finest comments I have written. A masterpiece in the art of sarcasm.

#11 Asian Girls

submom on June 10, 2009 at 9:58 am

Dear Sir, I would like to thank you for putting us #11 out of the many things that white people like. I feel truly honored. (Do NOT imagine me saying that in an accent a la Master Splinter…)

On the other hand, I have to be honest, I am rather peeved that we are not on the Top 10 List. (Wes Anderson?! Ok. Fine. I can live with that. I like him too) I am not sure whether you have had a chance to read through all 14500+ comments generated by this post. (Great job! Congrats!) Granted most of them are hate mails from all groups of males: Maybe for once they can all agree to hate Asian females and hate each other? I thought I’d leave a post to thank your readers for the new insights about ourselves that I didn’t know before.
Here are a few things I’ve learned from your ab. fab. and maddeningly funny post:

1. If you are white and male and you are looking to date a girl of Asian descent (hey, let’s be PC here, peeps!) show her to your other Asian, preferably male, friends. (If you have no other friends of Asian descent, hmmm, I think there should be another post about this situation but I digress…) As a last resort, take her to any Asian restaurant (No, Panda Express does NOT count!) Ask them whether she is HOT by their standards. Do not trust your own judgement.

2. If you are a girl of Asian descent and are fielding interest from a non-Asian male, do ask him whether he’s ever been to Asia and more importantly, whether he’s taught English there. If YES to the latter or if he has stayed there for longer than a month, RUN.

3. If he says, “I love Panda Express.” Punch him in the nose and then RUN.

4. If you think you may be suffering from Yellow Fever or Asian Fetish, you really should get it looked at. Your insurance may cover it.

In response to the question posted on BlogHer: Dating Deal Breakers: What Merits an Automatic Dismissal?

I said:

“The first two questions I asked my husband as a litmus test when he first showed signs of interest in me (or when I finally were sure that he was interested): 1. Did you belong to a fraternity? 2. Have you ever been to Asia for an extended period of time?/Have you dated a woman of Asian descent? He answered NO to both. I admit I based the first question on stereotypes of frat boys from the movies/TV shows. Yes, I am a Fraternist. No apology there. The second question was necessary because I am Asian, and I have seen enough Western men (regardless of skin colors) with “yellow fever” to be alarmed. If he were into me JUST (or even, first and foremost) because I am Asian. Then sorry, not into that. I have also seen enough white boys being totally spoiled in Asian countries thinking they are the cat’s meow to want to weed out, or at least be super cautious towards, anybody that has spent a lot of time over there.

My other deal-breakers are more normal: RUDE to people in the service industry, e.g. waiters, doormen. Failure to hold doors open for others. Ok, maybe not so normal. I consider these to be telltale signs for a person’s character.”

Inadvertently I shared too much too candid too soon. Seriously, are you surprised? I may have also touched upon an area, race/skin color, that in general makes people hesitate, if not downright uncomfortable. The host of this discussion did not respond to my comment.

Really!?! I will show you how inscrutable I am in plain English…

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Warning: This post should be filed under “Psychotic Ranting and Anonymous Foaming”, a category available from NaBloPoMo, (Thank you to whoever was wise enough to create this category…) in which I whine about stereotypes that caught me by surprise. Please feel free to ignore me when I am behaving like a rabid dog. Come back when I am normal, or normal by my standard.

The thing about reading a fiction is that a good book sucks you in, lures you to identify with the protagonist, even more so if it is from the first person point of view. Most fictions have an underlying universal theme: family, betrayal, love, hate, loss, reunion, found happiness, redemption, self-discovery, at least the successful ones do.

I went into the library in search of a good book to read. I do this by browsing the book shelves and see what strikes my fancy. Like many things I do in life, I trust it to chance. Serendipity. I love the sound of it, more so since I learned how to spell it correctly.

I came across a book by one Jonanthan Tropper, This Is Where I Leave You. The front flap promises a “riotously funny, emotionally raw novel about love, marriage, divorce, family, and the ties that bind — whether we like it or not.” Wonderful! Besides, this book apparently was being adapted into a feature film from Warner Brothers Studios. Even better! This way I can just read the book and skip the movie: since we all know, as a rule, the original books are infinitely better than the adapted films, right? (Except Marvel heroes movies of course. IMO.)

So imagine me, a universal reader, Everyman (Or, Everyperson if you want to be all PC about it…), following along the storyline. Everyperson, moi, going merrily down the road with the narrator who just lost his father and whose family is not mourning/coping properly, (Ok, so not so merrily after all. Sorry, my bad), I thought, “Dysfunctional family,” yup, we all have one of those. But wait. Hmm. The author could have lightened up on some of the cliché phrases and expressions, but that is not a good reason to put down a book once you started it. Or… is it?

Then on Page 11, BOOM! it came. Out of nowhere. The Chinese showed up.

My landlords are the Lees, an inscrutable, middle-aged Chinese couple who live in a state of perpetual silence. I have never heard them speak. He performs acupuncture in the living room; she sweeps the sidewalk thrice daily with a handmade straw broom that looks like a theater prop. I wake up and fall asleep to the whisper of her frantic bristles on the pavement. Beyond that, they don’t seem to exist, and I often wonder why they bothered immigrating. Surely there were plenty of pinched nerves and dust in China.

Really!?!

I am back. Here are the thoughts that went (are going) through my mushroom-cloud head:

Maybe this book was written in the 1960s before the Civil Rights Movement. Or maybe it was published in the late 20th century since you know, we were oh so unenlightened back then. (Nope. It was published August 2009…)
Maybe the narrator is what they call an “unreliable narrator”, like John Dowell in The Good Soldier, Frederick Clegg in The Collector, and even Humbert Humbert in Lolita.
I can’t really “demand” authors to start censoring themselves on the basis of Political Correctness.
I guess all that “identifying with the narrator” was for naught. I am the “inscrutable” Chinese. Wow. Imagine that!

Well, Mr. Tropper, this is where you left me befuddled and where I leave YOU! On Page 11…

Sax Rohmer published the Fu Manchu novels in 1913. Wasn’t that like, hmm, almost a century ago?

And, really? Just because someone does not talk to you, all of a sudden, they are inscrutable? Maybe they just don’t like you because you are living in THEIR basement.

Is it because of our eyes? So small, you can’t see “into our souls”?

Oh, and news flash: The whole inscrutable Chinese thing? MEGA TROPE! Done to death since the 1870’s.

Until you also think the French with their obsession with wine and cheese, the Italian with their obsession with impeccable fashion style even when they are just sitting inside their own house, and the Germans with their inherent love for logics and orders, and all the FOREIGN languages they speak with, are also inscrutable, don’t call ME inscrutable.

And if you are keeping the landlords in the movie, I dare you to make them inscrutable. No, seriously. More jobs for Asian (Asian American) actors. I support my kind. I can’t wait to see it.

Got Pigtail? Ugh. Halloween Costume Conundrum

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Every Halloween, we saw news reports and editorial comments on offensive costumes du jour. What I call Halloween Costume Conundrum. HCC.

This year, the HCC award went to Illegal Alien:

illegal alien

It was such a brouhaha partly because, in my opinion, it was sold through Target’s website. Target, the one mega store that does not seem to garner public ires, not yet. In fact, Target has been the trendy, cheap chic, darling for just about every social spectrum in the U.S. (It is amazing if you think about it. Kudos to their PR and marketing teams.) Protests against this costume started garnering support when immigrant activists cried foul, loudly. Several news programs commented on the costume as “distasteful” and “disgusting”, or even racist.

Now, I am as overtly sensitive as the next person of color, and probably have one of the largest chips on my shoulder. But my first reaction to this costume was:

That is clever!

You see: here the costume plays on the double meaning of “alien” and twists it around. The costume does not indicate the race/ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation of the wearer. It reminds us, or me at least, that there ARE illegal aliens from all over the world. (And as hinted by this costume, beyond this world even…) AND, the “alien” is holding a GREEN CARD, therefore technically, the being is NOT illegal.

Subversive, no?

Furthermore, it could also be saying: Underneath the appearances, we are all PEOPLE. Our common enemy should be the sons-of-bitches in the galaxy far far away that are scheming to invade Earth and enslave our minds and bodies. We are the world. Indeed. Nicely done.

Why would people look at this and immediately label it as “racist”? Doesn’t the automatic association of “illegal aliens = Latinos” expose the person’s own prejudice?

Why would the immigrant activists make the quick assumptions that the illegal aliens in the Extraterrestrial form are meant to target the Latino community? Although I agree that most people, whether they admit it or not, do make the equation readily, I wish the immigrant activists would have seized the opportunity to dis-stabilize the stereotype that has been haunting the Latino communities.

“Look at this costume. ‘Illegal aliens’ may not be illegal after all. And underneath that label / mask, that could be ANYBODY.”

NOW, the more progressive (and yes, the “annoying” ones, the “hyper sensitive” ones, the buzz killers, the trouble makers, etc.) bunch amongst of us wince at any costume that aims to convey a different race/ethnicity when it is donned. I still feel conflicted towards how I should react:

What if the wearer is a person of color? What if a Chinese person wants to dress up as a Geisha? What if an African American person wants to dress up as a Native American warrior or a Native American Princess? (Yes. I am channeling my puzzlement towards the Tyra Bank’s “Hapa disaster” on America’s Next Top Model…)

How about dressing up as a Bavarian with a beer mug in hand? Yodel-a-hee-hoo, Yodel-a-hee-hoo! Is that offensive to a person of Bavarian descent?

I do have a semi-answer to the above: A person of Bavarian descent would most likely be treated just as a “regular” person. White. Un-marked. Even if they do speak with an accented English, as long as they don’t speak, when they walk down the street, they are “Just like everybody else.” Whereas a person of color will always carry the visible indicator with them. We are marked. There are always assumptions, unconsciously, made about us.

“So, you are Chinese. You must like rice.”

Yes, I do. But when I look at a white person, I don’t go,

“So, you are white. You must like cheese.” Or, if you are a hip white person, “Sushi“.

Because I overthink things, especially things that matters to nobody else, I was at a loss when I saw this, at a costume shop, right in the middle of the PC, Liberal center of the U.S. – Cambridge, MA:

“What are you?” OMG, a form I could fill out wihout having to choose!

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My children are, in the common lingo, “mixed”. Or, if they want to be hip when they grow up and get into identity politics, they can call themselves Hapa, or, indeed, whatever the hack they want. If they want to call themselves a mutt, the way Prez. Obama did, fine with me too.

But despite my wish to chant along with “We are all the same deep down inside” and “We are the world”, reality always sets in when I fill out forms for the kids, especially when I register my kids for school.

Ethnicity:

White.

Black.

American Indian.

Asian.

Hispanic/Latino.

“Other” is not an option provided. Even if it were, I probably wouldn’t have chosen it anyway: There is no way I would self-identify my children as “Other”. The school district needs to recognize them for who they are. They are not OTHER, thank you very much. (Edward Said would be very proud indeed…)

For 7 years, I checked TWO boxes, and inadvertently, there was only one check left when the form was returned back to me to “check for accuracy”. The funny thing is, sometimes “White” was selected, and sometimes “Asian” was selected: the school system can’t seem to make up its mind. I guess it depends on what my children looked like on that particular day… I would stubbornly check BOTH boxes again and send it back.

That’s why I was so excited when I was filling out this form below: Has got to be the most PC form I’ve ever seen.

Drawing1

I do wonder though: Now that “Multi-racial” is a choice, under what kind of circumstances would one select “Other”?

“A Class Divided”: Powerful experiment on how Racism can be learned, and in 15 minutes

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Some of you may know about this already, since this Frontline documentary was first aired in 1985. I have only heard about the “Blue-eyed vs. Brown-eyed” experiment done by a daring 3rd-grade teacher, but I have never actually seen the documentary until today. Through Twitter, of course. There is something to be said about the power of audio visual presentation.

I was impressed by the courage of the teacher, Jane Elliott, and awed by the outcome when I READ the description of what happened in those two days:

On the day after Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered in April 1968, Jane Elliott’s third graders from the small, all-white town of Riceville, Iowa, came to class confused and upset. They recently had made King their ‘Hero of the Month,’ and they couldn’t understand why someone would kill him. So Elliott decided to teach her class a daring lesson in the meaning of discrimination. She wanted to show her pupils what discrimination feels like, and what it can do to people.

Elliott divided her class by eye color — those with blue eyes and those with brown. On the first day, the blue-eyed children were told they were smarter, nicer, neater, and better than those with brown eyes. Throughout the day, Elliott praised them and allowed them privileges such as a taking a longer recess and being first in the lunch line. In contrast, the brown-eyed children had to wear collars around their necks and their behavior and performance were criticized and ridiculed by Elliott. On the second day, the roles were reversed and the blue-eyed children were made to feel inferior while the brown eyes were designated the dominant group…

But the text does not prepare you for the visceral reactions you’ll be getting when you watch the actual documentary… I’ve got goose bumps all over me…

You can find the full 5-part program directly here and also Teachers’ Guide.

What is even more valuable as a lesson, and reminder, for all of us, even in this day and age, despite the sensationalism this documentary certainly has delivered, is what Jane Elliot said to have pushed her towards such a drastic experiment on her 3rd graders in an interview:

Yet all I could think of as I saw this attitude of sympathetic indifference develop was the way I had myself reacted to racial discrimination all these many years: Sure, an incident can anger you. Sure, you feel sorry about the way blacks are being treated. Sure, something ought to be done about it. And now, what shall we talk about?

Coda: I was surprised to learn that the small, rural, all-white community actually supported this experiment. The parents were ok with Ms. Elliot’s unique lesson plan. Upon further reading, the superintendent at that time was indeed under a lot of pressure to fire Jane Elliot. He didn’t. According to Elliot, “20 percent of the people in Riceville are still absolutely furious about what I did on April 4, 1968.” But the parents of her students never had any problem with her unique lesson plan…

It is probably the sign for the times we live in and my unrelenting cynicism. As I was watching the video and dealing with the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts forming inside me, one part of my brain was actually thinking, and I am not proud to admit it,

“Whoa. That took some courage for her to do that. I wonder whether she would have got herself AND the school AND the school district into a shit load of trouble if she were doing this NOW. Imagine the protests from parents…”

Have we somehow walked backwards some time when nobody was looking?

The Ability to be Oblivious OR Is there a manual for the multicutural world we envision?

“You people!” is symptomatic of something that none of us want to admit…

“No, Newt, You’re the Racist” Thank goodness someone more elequont wrote this rebuttal…

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to the charge by some Republicans against the Supreme Court Nominee, Sonia Sotomayor, as being a racist against the white people, and specifically, white male people.

I first saw this charge when I was waiting to board the plane. (You know the CNN scrolling texts on the bottom that drive everybody crazy but, I have to admit it, was pretty useful when there was NO sound on!) I could NOT believe my eyes. But I was not surprised either.

In my head I was formulating all these rebuttals, clever comebacks, theories, arguments against charges of any type of Reverse Racism. The best I could come up with was: It is like the Royal Families complain about being prejudiced against because people are jealous of the privileges they enjoy.

Seriously? Give me a break!

Thank goodness for Vanity Fair. Here is again another article that I LOVE so much that I want to print it out and eat it whole. I really should be working since I am buried by projects that are all due YESTERDAY. But I need to get this off my chest before I explode into a pile of, YES, non-white, mess…

No, Newt, You’re the Racist by Michael Hogan (May 27, 2009)

Mr. Hogan, I assume who is white and male (NOT that there is anything wrong with that…), managed to deliver a rebuttal against this utter nonsense in an even-handed, non-didactic, non-preachy way.

Digression: I also appreciate much the fact his article does not invoke White Guilt either, for nothing is more annoying to me than condescension and patronization born out of White Guilt. No, thank you very much, we have managed along quite well. We do not need to be rescued by a knight in shiny armor. Give me outright Racism any day ( Disclaimer: obviously, I understand VIOLENCE committed on the basis of racism is no joke. Here I am referring to TALKS. DISCOURSES.) When it is veiled in White Guilt, I am at a loss as to how to react to it.

Anyway, the best quote from the article is as follows, although I do hope you read the entire thing if you have stayed with my rant so far…

The reason so few sensible people take [any charge of reverse racism] seriously is that there is no effective anti-white discrimination in America or, for that matter, the world. Being white is almost universally easier than being any other color, just as being male is almost universally easier than being female. (If you’re white, male, and still angry, the problem is you.)

Nicely done. Thank you.

If you happen to be white (in appearances) and you cannot see the implied privileges that come with your skin color, here is a great article/exercise that may resonate with you:

“White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” by Peggy McIntosh in 1990. Yes, it is decades old. But hey, some things never change… or at least, not much.

p.s. Once again, the comments steal the show and become the proof for the importance of writing the article being commented on in the first place.

Michael Hogan, poor guy, he’s being pummeled and maligned in the comment section. It is rather scary and disturbing what was said in those comments. I wish I hadn’t read them because now I am officially pissed. And scared at the same time. And disturbed. And dispirited.

We are like The Simpsons. Yellow like The Simpsons.

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My 6 yo drew this picture of us today. This would be one of the 86,337 pictures drawn from the teacher asking “Please draw a picture of your family” before he graduates from high school. Surprised at his choice of color. But thank goodness that they no longer call the pale pinkish color “Skin”. That’s probably why he decided to go with a color that was most likely the closest to human complexion in the meagerly selection of crayons he has left – it is after all towards the end of the school year. I am surprised that we are not blue in the picture…

When they were younger, I pondered whether to be absolutely PC-crazy and shell out for a box of those fancy “People Colors” crayons from Lakeshore Learning Stores. I eventually decided against it. What are they gonna do with those crayons? Take them next to the person they are drawing to match the color? Like at a cosmetic counter when you are buying foundations? Or like paint chips you brought home from Home Depot?

Children are amazingly observant and they are not afraid of asking questions. This is what I have learned from my kids.

I guess tis a sign that Multiculturalism has become a big selling point when Crayola started selling something called “Multicultural Crayons”. Kudos to them for trying. Something is a bit off however … I cannot help but wonder at the colors.

Orange orange and red red? I think I will stick with yellow any time.

Note to Self: Buy ice cream for kid tomorrow. I look thin in the picture.

The Absence of Alternatives

My therapy sessions…