Things Asians say to Asian Americans in Asia

Looking for English teaching jobs:

“We are going to tell the parents that you are biracial and born in the State (while my friend does have fair skin, she definitely looks full-blooded Chinese). So will you dye your hair and eyebrows to a lighter color? You understand that the image of our summer camp is exposing kids to foreigners.”

“Mengly is too ethnic a name. Will you change it to Mimi instead? (seriously, have you heard of anyone named Mimi?).

“Yes, you graduated with two English related majors in three years, from Berkeley with a full scholarship. Yes, these teachers are Australian high school kids on their break year. Yes, they are the ones with the jobs.”

“This is ABOUT what we offer our foreign teachers. Yes, we know you grew up in the States, but how do you think parents would feel spending so much money just so their kids will see another pair of black eyes and black hair. After all, they just want to expose their children.”

I proceeded to ask her if the school paid higher salaries to blond haired, blue eyed, white teachers than to the brown haired, brown eyed, white teachers.

I didn’t get the job.

Walking on the street minding my own business:

“Miss, miss, come try our special offer on skin whitening products. You’d be so pretty if you were whiter.”

I stopped to tell him that I was actually on my way to a tanning salon, then I realized there is no such word in Chinese yet.

Translating for my white friend that the (male) driver said: “He is so white and good looking!” (Though my friend is an attractive guy, the driver definitely meant it as a causal relationship) At that point, we decided that on the deserted plains of west China: he -the tall, white guy– waving down passing cars would have better luck in hitching us a ride than I –the small, Chinese girl–.

When with white male friends, I get asked, “Are you the translator, tour guide, secretary?” I answer with a succession of no’s. They wait for me to elaborate my relationship. When the explanation doesn’t come, their faces silently tell me, “Ah, you are the mistress he keeps here.” I try to tell them silently: "Trust me, he can't afford me." But they can't hear my silence the way I'm used to hearing theirs.

While not exclusively so, these are prominent experiences of Chinese American kids going back to their homeland to learn about their roots. Mengly went back home to LA after half a year. She was not used to being discriminated against by her own race. Jen mostly surrounds herself with Western friends in Beijing as she doesn’t like the Chinese American -superior to Chinese, but inferior to American- box Chinese people put her in. Growing up in LA where Asian American is the majority race, these girls’ frustrations are understandable.

Maybe because I grew up in rural Ohio or because I just don’t possess these ladies' sass, I get less stoked by these racist commentaries. The arbitrators mean no malice, they are just stupid. Sorry, I should use a more PC term: ignorant.