Feb 5th, 2007

I don't even know why I would talk about this publicly because I know it would seem so small and trivial to masses of people and subject me to the terrible and uncalled for criticism that I care "too much" about race, but it really struck a chord inside me. I was put in a place where I actually had to make a split second decision where I had to swallow all my sensibility and sensitivity in order to maintain a certain level of comfort.

So today, a guy asked me if I was a FOB. WTF. He wasn’t joking either.

Tiny indignities like these mount up when you think about all the things that people don't say in passing when they know they are holding company with someone who is Asian. But imagine how demoralizing it is to hear this type of shit when people assume that they are in like company? It happens to me all the time. People say dumb things, and then I have to say, "That's offensive, I'm Asian" and then they retort with, "Well, you're not really Asian" and then I have to say, "And you're the bookkeeper at the census bureau, right? I'm pretty sure I woke up today under the same sky as my Asian parents, so I don't know what else to tell you." This guy, I'd say in his middle 20s and white, has lived in some boon-town all his life. Somehow it became my responsibility to acknowledge that he was probably just a product of his environment, and would feel totally attacked if I calmly said, "What does that mean?”

Do I say something? Does he know how offensive he's being? Does he know how ignorant that sounds? Is it fair that I have to be in intimate vicinity with someone who probably thinks much worse things, much more socially unacceptable things, and just be quiet about it? If I say something, will this be a terrible day of pussy-footing around, avoiding eye contact, being labeled "sensitive"? I knew that if I said something, he would undoubtedly be uncomfortable around me. I would, in turn, be so uncomfortable but happy that I didn't have to hold my feelings inside. I did something today that, in its seemingly unimportant smallness, carried a much larger consequence and headache.

I chose to say nothing.

I beat myself up for a good while, pondering all the possible scenarios, all the ways this could play out. I was quiet for the rest of the day, disappointed that I had remained quiet. Disappointed that I had to take the high road even though I do feel he could learn a little something about keeping his mouth shut in the company of people of color. Then again, in private quarters, he may say things that are tenfold worse than this, and how does that affect me? It doesn't affect me directly, but it fuels the ugly fire that maintains closet racism and enables the world to work in discriminatory ways. I once read a book where the author spoke of "daily indignities" that people of color face and endure because it seems easier to just maintain a smile so that the facade of equality and fairness may remain intact.

And I feel terrible for being put in the position where I'm damned if I do, and damned (internal soliloquy) if I don't. But this is a public service announcement, and one that I too need to take heed to.

Think before you speak. Or, just plain think.

And this should end there because journalistically speaking, it thuds with closure, but hold up, I have something else to say.

This guy also made another racially bound comment. "X looks white but then she opens her mouth and she has this Latin accent. That makes me want to throw up." He said it reminded him of his ex-girlfriend. I guess she was Latino, but still, what? Whoa. He also used the term Mexican, as an all-inclusive racial marker, in the same verbal paragraph, and I was just like this shit is crazy.

And the craziest part about all of this is I still think he is a pleasant individual. I haven't written him off, even though I can. I find him to be a nice, funny, kind, genuine, considerate person, from what I know of him and how he's treated me. But, a part of me is still very miffed, totally uncomfortable by even the slightest co-signing of any level of racism. I judge him based on his good qualities. I can't pinpoint when bad outweighs good, I just know that right now I like him and he's okay in my book. Why does this happen?

To throw in another interesting twist, imagine if I told you that the person that made those derogatory comments was a female? Replace all the he's with she's and see how your perception changes? Does gender play a role in our level of forgiveness or tolerance? I wrote this paper once with the person as a female, and once as male (I have poetic license like that), switched it back to female and then back to male, and I was intrigued by how it made me feel as I read it. Maybe you're indifferent to the difference it makes as you replace the pronouns with the opposite. You'll never know if it was a boy or a girl, and it doesn't matter. I just know that I like a person right now regardless and despite of his/her shortcomings and that's huge for me. I am usually not very forgiving when it comes to this stuff. I just know that I would like to be liked by my peers, the people around me every day, despite my shortcomings as well, so it only serves me karmically (made that word up, I think) to practice this.

I was so moved by this internal dialogue that I had to ask a friend if he had ever really liked somebody that knowingly said weird shit, and he said he did. He told me that "it wouldn't be like [I was] aiding and abetting Hitler for genuinely liking somebody." We agreed that people are strange, life is weird and that I can't be the mouthpiece for "right" speech. It would be exhausting, void of fun. I told him about my hesitation in even writing this and he said, "Being quiet about it will only make you feel worse and will do nothing for you" or the world for that matter. Maybe this entry will help some lost soul that says dumb shit. Maybe it will help someone articulate their own personal quandaries about this topic. Perhaps it will infuriate some, enlighten others and even still bore the shit out of a few. Either way, in fury and enlightenment there is thought and emotion and if one person is moved, then I can forgive myself for saying nothing today. Or I can come down from this soapbox and have some ice-cream.

In the end, I think all of this moral jibber jabber signifies the fact that I am aging. I am coming to a pivotal point in my life where my over-analysis is being put to good use. Personal growth is some scary shit. To step back and see yourself as you were and as you are is crazy. To actually be able to chronologically place your emotional development on a time line is insane. To chart your internal conversations in an effort to mark positive change in your life is cool. I think this is supposed to be happening at 21. Who said 25? Man, I'll be #% years old (it is a vulgarity) on the 8th this month. Profound and treacherous at the same time. I lie. I'm only turning 21. Don't go doing any research. It's true, just take it. 21 till death.