I was the victim of three separate attacks within the last three days, all as a direct result of my race.
Okay, now that I have your attention, I'll qualify: they weren't physical attacks. Or even particularly vicious ones. They were verbal in nature and not meant to be intentionally disparaging or hurtful. But, nonetheless, all three happened. And they were emotionally affecting and, unfortunately, common. Something that I've learned, no...make that, been forced...to deal with on a semi-regular basis.
The three sets of insensitive remarks were made presumably because people have come to expect certain things of me. My personality. My presumed language. My particular tastes in entertainment and food. The types of women I want to date. The size of my d*ck. Etc. All because of my race. Actually, come to think of it, it's more general than that. The remarks are made based strictly on my appearance, since my race isn't actually known to the offending person until I clarify for them.
I've come to call these events, "Getting Konichiwa'ed." In honor of a particularly ignorant young man in Seattle, who yelled the word "Konichiwa" to me from a moving vehicle as we were both stuck in post-Mariners game traffic. It's important to note that the young man was a complete stranger. I never met him, even after our brief encounter. Although, to this day, I wish I'd had the pleasure of introducing his face to the bottom of my Timberland boot. The irony of Getting Konichiwa'ed, as it is, is that I'm Korean and "konichiwa" is a Japanese word. Hilarious, I know.
Getting Konichiwa'ed entails the offending person to assume certain things about my character. Like suggesting I probably like kung-fu movies (as happened last Friday night). Or presuming that I'm into anime (as happened yesterday on my way to the laundromat). And sometimes, in its purest form, it simply involves someone yelling out the word "Konichiwa!" to me as I pass by (as was the case yesterday on my way back from the laundromat and of course on that fateful summer day when the phrase was first coined).
The most difficult (and disheartening) thing about the three most recent events, is the fact that all three offending parties were men of color. I know that just because an individual is a member of a minority (like me), he isn't necessarily properly attuned to the sensitives of his fellow minorities (not that I am totally attuned either, but at least I'm trying). Especially if that fellow minority is of a totally different ethnicity. But is it too much to expect a little bit more of an understanding? I really don't think so.
One of my favorite racial epithets that I heard recently is this: "In Seattle, there is more than just one type of Chinese person. And in New York, there is more than just one type of Mexican." (I'm presuming you understand why this is funny, so I'm not going to explain it here.) It's so inappropriate, yet sadly so true, especially to those ignoramuses I referenced above. And I can say this because I'm Asian. (No re-appropriation of racial stereotypes allowed by those not directly stereotyped. Man, sometimes I love being a member of a minority!)
So, it's not a surprise in New York when people think I'm Chinese. I guess it's just what they're used to seeing (or think they're seeing). Even Chinese people think I'm Chinese! Like when I was in Macy's the other day and an older gentleman walked over and started speaking to me in Chinese. I said to him, "I'm sorry, I only speak english." He nodded politely and said, "Thank you" and then laughed out loud. (Chinese people always laugh when they learn I'm either not Chinese or I don't speak Chinese. This unnerves me and generally makes me feel like a real a**hole.)
What made the recent events particularly affecting, is the short amount of time in which they occurred. Yesterday evening I was really bothered by it, but I didn't realize how much until I found myself in a huge crowd of people at Rockefeller Center, and I was waiting, I mean just waiting, for the next person to say something inappropriate. Thankfully it never happened. (If it had, I may be writing this little essay from a jail cell instead of my couch.)
All of this has forced me to consider how much, over time, the steady stream of insensitive remarks has worn on me. The impact of those random times of Getting Konichiwa'ed over the course of my life only seem to have left, at most, an imperceptible amount of damage. They seem no more than isolated events that simply serve to remind me racism exists and that I am often directly subjected to it. I don't feel particularly damaged by it. I feel like I can exist in a world where this happens. They've mostly been like water off a duck's back, where obviously I am the duck.
After the past three days, however, I don't think this is true. Each and every time it happens, it affects me more than I think. Sort of like rain that occasionally falls on hard, dry ground. Over time, you might not notice the erosion that occurs. But now and again, there's a deluge like the last three days, when the water beats down on the ground harder and in a more sustained way. And the impact of the drops suddenly becomes visible.
I am lucky because I've had it relatively easy. I'm a member of what's called a "model minority." As an Asian, I'm "safe." Non-threatening. Not like how some other people of color are viewed in this society. I can only imagine the amount of damage it's caused to those folks.
The beauty and tragedy of being a person of color in America is that I will never be a blank slate to the strangers around me.
The beauty lies in the fact that my uniqueness is immediately recognizable. It's right here. You can see it on my face. I would never trade my race for another because of this; I want you to see it.
The tragedy lies in the preconceived notions and presumptions that are held by other people. Thankfully, I have little to no control over that tragedy. Ultimately, my solace will be found in finally realizing that it's not my fault, but theirs.
