Interracial Dating and Marriage. Post #2

I remember hearing somewhere that yes, people are dating outside their race more frequently now. We've moved forward on our level of acceptance. But they still don't end up marrying that way. People are willing to try outside their comfort zone in dating, but to make the commitment to marry another race is another block we have not overcome yet. You know you've been curious, wondering what it'll be like to fuck a hot Asian chick. (Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?) Dream about a big black man carrying you off into the field for some hot summer loving. Want to know if the stereotypes are true?

At one point or another you've caught Yellow Fever and Jungle Fever. Admit it. You know it. I know it. You can deny it, but ya'll know who you are out there.

Who's in charge?

I was asked to give feedback to a children's game. I gave my two cents about the board colors, textures, and cute pictures....and then some. I told the people that I thought they went about "diversity" totally wrong. The game featured "ethnic" children happily playing the game together, listening to instructions by a white man. They were trying to be all inclusive by showing the little white boys and girls and little black boys and girls play together. But who's THE MAN? Who do they all still have to listen to? Some middle age white guy. Of course the authoritative figure was a white male. I didn’t expect them to change, but I thought it was worth bringing it to their attention. A POC as the leader. How's that for forward thinking, uh?

The staff politely thanked us and I can't decide is she was slightly embarrassed or truly confused at my comment. I knew I wasn't going to change a whole system with one short comment, but I had to say it out loud.

You know I should give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they already tested versions of the game featuring a POC directing the kids and it just did not test well with groups. Maybe the version with the big black guy scared the shit out of small children. And none of the kids paid attention and started picking their noses to the version with the Asian man. I'm sure they had their reasons for choosing a comfortable standard white man to be the GOD of the game.

Thanks, Brenda!

Oppression is a Double Bagger.

I talked to my long time friend Miranda this week. Here’s a snippet of our conversation:

Miranda: I find what you have to say on race fascinating.

Me: Thanks, Miranda!

Me Inside: Doy, yah. I’m fabulous. Where have you been?

Miranda: I don't think I'm as stupid and naive as a lot of others when it comes to that, but I can't possibly really know what it's like and for me it's really interesting and thought-provoking to know.

Me Inside: You’re not stupid because you are abso-fucking-lutely right to say I’m interesting!

Miranda: I didn't choose to be white, but I think a lot has to do with how people use it/abuse it or don't. Being fat mimics a lot of what you're talking about, it's something else I didn't choose, but is discriminated against all the time.

Me Inside: Ooooh, soap box time! Damn it, this box is too short. I’m still like, only 5’7” standing here. If only I have a couple of phone books. Who has those anymore?

Me: It all comes down to power and class. The latent current of power and oppression manifests itself through different methods. Those in power need a way to separate themselves from those without. The power system identifies the targeted populations by picking arbitrary shared characteristics, marginalizing the groups with identifying traits. For this country, classes are often separated by visual physical differences, such as skin color, body size, and clothing. In countries where looks are more homogeneous, the power manifests more in non-visible traits like political party and religion. The marginalized groups are prevented from the benefits of social institutes and services. I don't hate white people, I hate the white centered system of oppression.

Me Inside: Nailed that point pretty well. I should treat myself to a bubble tea today.

Miranda: I hate society's inability to accept differences in general.

Me: I don't even think society has an innate instinct to dislike differences. I think people use differences as an excuse to exercise power. Prejudice is a tool of oppression. Oppression is the abuse of power. For an oppressor, denying the rights of people is not enough because one will eventually question the merits. The marginalized groups must also be stigmatized, dehumanized, and out of mainstream in order to justify the actions of the oppressors. At the end, it’s not the color of skin that matters. What matters is which color has the power.

Me Inside: Oppressors are douche bags.

Thanks, M!

Capris or Shorts?

A couple of years ago, I was at REI, the hearth of Northwest white liberals. I saw, no kidding, zip off hiking capri pants. I wish I can find a picture of it to show how ridicules they were. I am quite impartial to the capri style, so my opinion (as always) is very bias. I’m a short person and capri pants make my look squat as a pumpkin, a cute one, but still a pumpkin.

The idea is you wear these pants when you start out on a hike in the morning. They modestly cover just past your knees. Later in the heat of the afternoon, you can conveniently zip off the lower part to make them shorts that hit just ABOVE the knees. Ta-da, shorts for a warm afternoon! Wow, a whole four inches. Good thing you’ve got those freaking awesome $90 zip off Capri pants, worth every penny. Because damn girl, your knees were getting really hot in there! Those four inches of extra air flow can make or break your whole hike.

Asian Characters for Tattoos

Tattoos of asian words. You’ve all seen them. Sporty Spice had a “Girl Power” tat and it was like totally cool when I was a Spice Girls fan back in high school. Okay, I’m still a fan. I do remember as a child I saw one my dad’s friends with the Chinese words for “marijuana” tattooed on his forearm. I asked my dad why his friend would have that tattoo. My wise father quietly told me that his friend thinks the words mean “Good Luck.”

Actually, he wasn’t using his quiet voice. When people around us don’t speak Chinese, he uses his big booming voice like we’re at some open air market. I think it’s a form of defiance and self pride when he spats negative comments extra loud in Chinese since “they can’t understand anyway!” This happens often much to my brothers’ and my dismay.

Back to the story, I was appalled that my father wouldn’t tell his friend the truth. My dad taught me to be a good honest hard working person. He is the definition of honor to me. But he went on to assure me that “It’s too late for the truth now.”


Sidenote: I knew what pot was when I was around 12. Somehow, that feels a little wrong.

Interracial Dating and Marriage. Post #1

Asian Chick-White Guy
There are lots of these combos walking around.

Asian Guy-White Chick
Not so many.

Asian American Men Beware!

First, a Korean American gunman at Virginia Tech in 2007. Now Jiverly Wong at the NY American Civic Association shooting.

Asian American men beware of backlash.

I worry about my brothers and father everyday. If they accidently glance at the gun section at Walmart while checking out the tennis rackets, people will be running out the store.

Today I feel lucky that I’m a woman because the backlash will miss me. Asian girls are all nice, demure, petit, good at math, and work as bank tellers. We don’t do anything bad. We make nice wives.

Crash my ass.

I hate the movie Crash. There I said it. Everyone loved it. I could barely sit through it. It’s a bad racist movie disgusted as a liberal conversation starter featuring white heroes and poor trapped black men. Stupidest movie ever. Harold and Kumar did more for social understanding than Crash can ever imagine.

Oh, same with Blood Diamond. I couldn't even finish that gem of a performance by Leo. Djimon Hounsou, why did you do it? Were you young and needed the money? I'm going to stick to that. You were desperate for a job. You are so much cooler than that colonial steeped farce of a movie.

I *Heart* Rice

Rice. I love you. I hate you. I can't live without you. I hate the way you stick to clothes. You fall from the table onto my chair, smashed up onto the seat of my pants. A thick film of paste, impossible to remove. Walking around with you stuck on my clothes is more embarrassing than living my worst hair day. I hate you when you dry up into little bullets that are as hard as diamonds on my socks. You reveal yourself the next morning inside my shoe, reminding me of our lifelong bond. I try to keep you off the floor, but always you sneak into the tentacles of the carpet. But I can't live without you. One week without rice, I start to get the shakes.

Why rice? Why do you torment me so?