| Race Through My Life Experiences |
| by ‘Anonymous’ |
My life seems somewhat plain and simple compared to the entertainment stars we hear about every night on the news such as Jennifer Lopez, Halle Berry, and P. Diddy. I have not experienced anything traumatic or spectacular in my life so far and I am not asking for sympathy. I want to share an important issue that has been troubling me and probably many others as well. Race is an issue that has evolved with mankind. Even though, the Civil Rights Movement guaranteed basic civil rights for all Americans, regardless of race, racial stereotyping and profiling still carries on today. In telling you my life experiences, I am hoping for people to understand that people are alike. Although everyone seems different on the outside because of their skin color, we are all human beings but unique in our own little way.
I was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. It is a very diverse community where one race does not dominate over another. In the building that I lived in, it was as diverse as the city itself. There was a family of every race living in the building: Whites; Indians; Filipinos; Vietnamese; Blacks; Hispanics; and Chinese. My family was one of the Chinese families that resided in the building. There were occasional differences here and there, but most of the time, all of the families were able to get along with one another.
I was in the first grade when I came across my first encounter with race. At this age, no one would have thought that children would face any racial stereotyping or even knew how to differentiate between people. Not in my case. It was recess and all the students were going outside to play. I was walking to the playground with my two girlfriends, one girl was Chinese and the other girl was Vietnamese. We approached a group of White girls over by the jungle gym and asked if we could play with them. One of the girls said, “No!” I asked, “Why?” She replied, singing , “Chinese, Japanese…” while pulling her temples towards her hairline to make her eyes appear small, slanted, and squinted. I ran away crying. I could not understand why they would not want to play with me. I wore the little pretty dresses that they wore. I put my hair in pigtails as they did. I talked as they did. I went to school as they did. I still could not understand why they would not want to play with me if I was like them.
After school ended for the day, I rushed home and locked myself in the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror examining my facial features trying to find something wrong with myself. Then I realized my eyes are not nice and round like the White girls’ eyes. My eyes are a little smaller and slanted. I finally realized why the girls did not want to play with me. The reason was that my eyes were shaped like an almond, small and slanted. My eyes made me look different and queer to the girls. I came out of the bathroom and waited for my mother to finish cooking. She saw that I was upset and asked how my day was at school. Without hesitating, I asked, “Mom, why are my eyes like this?” as I motioned to pull my temples back. She was shocked and scolded at me for doing that to my eyes and said, “My precious daughter, you are a very pretty girl, never let anyone tell you otherwise.” I did not know what to make of my mother’s response, so I asked her, “Mom, why can’t I be normal like the (White) girls in my school?” She started crying and told me, “ Noi noi , you are an American Born Chinese and you need to be proud of who you are because you are Chinese and that is what you will always be.” I did not understand her answer but I knew that I was different. I guess she just did not know how to answer me, or did not want to explain it, or just wanted to wait for the right time to tell me what I was afraid to hear.
The next day was a Saturday. Unlike everyone else, I had to go to school, Chinese School that is. I hated going to school on a Saturday. I wanted to stay home like the other students in my public school and have an extra free day to play with dolls and toys. I could not understand why my parents would put me through this torture of sitting inside a school on a Saturday. I despised my parents for making me do this every Saturday, for making me listen to a teacher try to teach me to read, write, and speak in my own language. As I sat in class one day, half paying attention, I stared at the eyes of all my classmates. Our eyes looked the same. Of course, we were all Chinese. Although our backgrounds came from different regions of China, we looked the same.
As years passed, I was still forced to attend Chinese School and I would not pay much attention in class because I believed that by continuing to not pay attention in class, this would infuriate my parents since they were putting me through this torture. Even though I went to school every Saturday in agony, I made some friends and became close friends with one of the girls in my class named Ding-yee . Ding-yee was a very bright girl. She told me stories about the academic honors she won for competitions she participated in and the medals that she won in the Chinese community. I was amazed at the honors that she won because she was a Chinese girl. Until now, I assumed that Chinese people did not have a fair chance at anything because we looked different. I started to wonder about the competitions that I would be able to participate in within the Chinese community. Since we all looked the same, I believed that I would be accepted. The Chinese community became my comfort zone. Afterwards, I continued going to public school and did not bother to think about my different facial appearance.
When I reached middle school, my parents decided that they wanted to move to a town called Woodbridge. This town was predominantly comprised of Whites and was not as diverse as Jersey City was. Not only did I have to situate myself in this new town, I faced the fear of the students at this new school not accepting me. This time I took control and made friends with people of my own kind. Soon enough, I reached high school and was enthusiastic to find out that there would be more diversity than middle school. I made it through my morning classes without any problems and then came the lunch period. I entered the cafeteria and noticed that each lunch table was separated by race: Asians; Whites; Blacks; Indians; and Hispanics. Knowing my comfort zone, I instinctively headed towards the tables that the Asian students were at and sat with them. The group embraced and welcomed me. I knew that I made the right choice. As time went on, I felt better about myself and became proud to be Asian. I was able to share my experiences with my new group of friends and relate to them since they understood where I was coming from.
Things changed yet again in the middle of my sophomore year. I started to take interest in a boy and he was Black. I did not know what it was about him, but every time I was around him, I felt special. One day my friends saw this Black boy walking me to one of my classes and said to me, “Why are you with him? He is Black. Can’t you tell? You deserve so much better than that nigger.” I grew very embarrassed and upset that someone I called a friend could say something as horrible as that. Why was it so horrible for this Black boy to be walking me to class? I could not stop thinking about this question throughout the day. I always see interracial couples on television and I never saw any harm in it. Only now do I recognize the risk that interracial couples bear.
After school, my friend called me to apologize for the remark that she made. She was surprised at herself for making a comment like that. That night, I lay in my bed thinking about my Black friend and I gradually began to lose interest in him over the next several weeks. I did not know whether I lost interest in him because of the remark my friend made or because in high school, you can lose interest in someone as quick as you gain interest in a person. I had to make a decision. I did not know whether to end my so-called relationship with my Black friend or risk losing my friends. I chose my friends because I knew that boys come and go but friends will always stick around. I did not want to lose my group of friends and nevertheless, I did not want to be an outcast again.
This past summer, my entire family took a family vacation to China. I was so excited to be in a place where I knew that I would fit in. A land filled with my people. People who speak my language with my native tongue surrounded me. People who were as loud as my family surrounded me. People who ate the same foods that I eat surrounded me. Did it take me twenty years to finally find a place I can call home? I was happy with my surroundings until I tried to communicate with the persons that I called my people. Unfortunately, I could not communicate with these people. I did not speak their language. I did not have a native tongue. I could only speak broken Chinese and English. Now, I am an outcast. I became embarrassed and very upset with myself. I finally realized that I should have paid attention all those years I went to Chinese School. I thought that my parents were trying to torture me, but they were really trying to teach me to fit in.
Presently, I am attending college and trying to make friends everywhere I go, regardless of race. Making friends with only one group of people in high school has prevented me from experiencing life at its fullest. I regret the choices that I have made. Nevertheless, these choices played as a learning experience that enabled me to grow as a person. The choice that I have made, to be a more diverse person, was not too late. I hope that through my experience of race, profiling and conforming to only one group of people will not help you in life it will only set you back. As hard as we try to fight racial profiling and stereotypes, racism will unfortunately continue to evolve with mankind.