race + Relationships
third to fifth grade
kendi kat, dede dula, mally moo, drea
my best friends
mostly of a more chocolate-y complexion
didn’t keep us from bonding over Neopets and sign language
but somehow i was always “destined” to marry the only other asians in the school — richard lee and kevin huang. because they looked like me, almond colored eyes, black hair, yellow skin.
one day my fifth grade teacher called me to the front of the room, to scream for a jolly rancher. yup, that’s right scream. shy little girl i was, i was visibily more than reluctant, but you know what made me scream?
mally moo sat in the front row and said to me “just think of all those people who say you like richard lee” (i HATED when people said that.)
so i screamed. (interesting exercise it was — i attribute it to helping me come out of my shell… but that’s a story for another time)
middle school.
i was so mad, angry and downright frustrated.
i didn’t want to move, because it would mean going to a new school and leaving my best friends. but move we did.
sixth grade (?)
the day carrying one of my greatest regrets.
i forgot my lunch at school and my mom ran right after me onto the bus
“rachel! rachel!” she called out in a shrill voice.
but i hid. i hid behind the rectangular bus seat like an embarrassed little girl, ashamed of her own mother.
every day opening my lunch, being asked “ewww what is THAT”
taking a bite of whatever it was, a hard boiled egg, some thing weird and throwing the rest away
seventh grade
when i discovered spanish. señora wilson made the language come alive for me. the first time i fell in love with a language.
high school
the morning group we called ourselves. mostly white and a couple of asians, one black.
hong kong/china
people would ask me if i was mixed, as if being mixed is more beautiful than pure Chinese
college
for the first time in america, i was asked the same question
once i convinced some girl i was half hispanic, half chinese
i was pretty proud of myself
it was fun to be racially ambiguous
had “adopted grandparents” — one set african american, dear Riland and Zelma, and one white lady named Linda. Linda straight up introduced me as her daughter once, we got a kick out of it.
the people i met were living proof that skin color cannot be a reliable indicator of one’s identity and roots
blonde hair, blue eyes. brazilian and a swirl of argentine.
ebony hair, almond-shaped eyes. mexican and korean.
law school and now.
the most i’ve consciously struggled with race
first time constantly surrounded by minorities, mostly african american
what is privilege
dig deeper
who i am
dig deeper
why can’t we all just get along
who i am in relation to others
how do i learn to embrace who i am
how do i learn to embrace my identity as an asian american
asian
and
american
refusing to go to a predominantly chinese church for lack of diversity
but God ultimately leading me there
forgetting Who bonds us in unity
forgetting that diversity is not merely eternal, and often rests in the unseen
how do i empathize with my brothers and sisters
how do i see both sides
all sides
how do i
how do i
how does eye see what eye cannot readily see
to look through and into the eyes of another
to be quick to listen, and slow to speak
taking the plank out of my eye
to better remove the speck out of my sister’s
i tell people i have a piece of the whole world within me
i get down to james brown in shower
and blast mariachi while driving home after a long day
dancing garba is one of my favorite things
henna is how i relieve stress
does that make me a cultural appropriator?
i love the patterns, vibrancy, and intricacies of cloths from malawi to thailand
and don’t even get me started on food
i want to put the whole world in a bottle to carry with me, but its wonder, of course, flees from being contained
i am a citizen, a child of the earth
i want to learn about every culture and tradition and hear every perspective and story, but it seems like time is not enough
there’s so much i want to do
so many conflicting emotions
balancing viewpoints, devil’s advocate
racism, race, relationships
what to do?
where to start?
i suppose it starts with looking eye into eye, listening to the contents of his, of her soul
to listen.
