Whiting Out the Asian

It seems that just as I’ve started to get a hang of this whole blogging thing it is time to wrap things up. Looking back now, my first few posts seem removed and impersonal. At the beginning I focussed too much on validation. I felt that if something I wanted to discuss hasn’t already been mentioned elsewhere, then it probably isn’t worth discussing.

Part of what I wanted to accomplish with this blog is to open up the discussion on a rarely discussed subject, but I had a lot of trouble with that at the beginning. It was especially difficult to talk about my own experiences. I would sit in front of the computer screen not really sure how to start, and once I did, it was this never ending cycle of typing and deleting to try and find the right words. And once I finished a piece it would sit unpublished for days before I could finally bring myself to post it. Partly it was just the insecurity of sharing a piece of my own writing, but mainly it was the fear that no one else feels the same way. It was the fear that maybe I’ve just been oversensitive and over-analyzing my experiences. What if all the judgements I make about myself just stem from my own insecurities. And worst of all, what if the judgements I make about other people of Asian heritage is just because I’m a terrible person.

After many conversations with others about their experiences with internalized racism, it gave me the courage to write about my own experiences and doing so became easier. Although this blogging process was difficult, I am thankful for it. It made me reflect upon my life in a critical manner and helped me unpack the ways that I have internalized racism.

As I write this concluding post and reflect upon how difficult it was to write about my personal experiences, I realize how utterly lonely and alienating internalized racism can be. The reason why it was so difficult to write about is because people don’t talk about it, and the reason why people don’t talk about it…is because people don’t talk about it…and so goes the never-ending cycle. Like many others who have internalized racism, I felt like I must be the only one who feels this way, and that what I’m feeling is ridiculous. For a long time, I didn’t want to validate those feelings. It was a relief to finally address the issue and to receive positive feedback.

And I think to address the issue is a big step towards unlearning internalized racism and to lessen the impact it has.

The issue of hyperawareness is so vast, that I felt I couldn’t give it the space it deserves in just one single post (two doesn’t even seem to suffice…but I’ll settle). Part I dealt mainly with the issue of language, but there are many many other ways that I (and many other individuals of Asian descent) feel hyperaware of Asianness in public spaces. Some of these feelings arise so regularly that they have become almost unconscious. I really had to dissect my feelings to get to the root causes, and perhaps, that’s what’s most vicious about internalized racism – it’s like a virus that has embedded itself into your DNA; slowly it becomes a part of you and occupies every bit of you.

Canadians are known as being overly-nice, welcoming and generous. Chinese people on the other hand, are known as being rude and stingy. As someone of Chinese descent who has grown up in Canada, I often feel the need to act extra stereotypically-Canadian in order to avoid being seen as the Rude Asian. Worse of all, I have turned this stereotype of Chinese people (or just Asian people in general) onto others.

Just the other day, I was driving around Granville Island on a busy Sunday looking for a vacant parking spot when I finally spotted one. It was at the worst possible angle (parking spots on Granville Island are very free spirited and seems to grow however they wish) but it was empty and all mine. Exuberant, I turned my blinkers on and was ready to somehow magically jam my car in there in when out of nowhere a white expensive-looking car squeezes itself into the spot from the opposite direction. I looked into the car – three Chinese people around my age. Figures, I thought, it’s a bunch of spoiled rich Chinese kids. They got out of the car, completely oblivious to fact that I WAS SITTING IN MY CAR SILENTLY  SCREAMING OBSCENITIES AT THEM I was sitting patiently in the car waiting for them to realize their mistake. They were joined by an older Chinese couple, who also popped out of nowhere (I SWEAR THIS FAMILY MUST HAVE CRAZY NINJA SKILLS), and then the most amazing thing of all happened: they spoke fluent English. I heard them. They talked about how lucky it was that they just happened upon this (MY) spot, and walked away. They sounded like nice people and like they genuinely didn’t see me waiting for the spot, so I let it go. But still the incident gnawed at me…not about the parking spot but the fact that despite me being Chinese as well and speak fluent English, somehow I did not expect them to. And worst of all, I simply attributed their (perceived) rudeness to their Asianness and vice versa.

I think back to working as a cashier at a supermarket a few years back. Whenever we had some kind of charity event and an Asian-looking person didn’t donate, a small voice inside would tell me it’s because they’re Asian. And whenever an Asian-looking person would donate more than the average person would, the same small voice inside would tell me that they’re an exception.

In a funny way, I feel the need to be extra courteous in public because I want to distance myself from Asian-stereotypes, but also to prove those stereotypes wrong. And in some small part, I feel the need to make up for all those Asians who fall into those stereotypes.

I don’t yet know how to reconcile with this, but it’s something I work on at chipping away every day.

This week I want to explore hyperawareness in relation to “Asianness” through some of my own experiences.

I find that in public spaces, I am often hyperaware of my “Asianness” and try my hardest to distance myself as far away as possible from Asian stereotypes and being “that Asian”.

The other day I happened to take the same bus as a family friend whom I’m not very close with. We exchanged pleasantries, talked about school and work, and all was going well until she switched to speaking in Mandarin.

Immediately, I felt uncomfortable. Some of that discomfort most likely arose from my Mandarin skills not being all that great, but I can’t delude myself and believe that’s all it was. I was uncomfortable because I didn’t want to reply in Mandarin looking the way I do – Chinese. That, in my view, would out me as a “foreigner”, which would be… bad (?). Actually I have no idea what that would be, but I just know it has to be avoided. It reminded me of Amy Sun’s piece when she speaks about being an ‘undercover Asian’ and erasing the Asian parts of herself.

I replied in English and the conversation carried on with her speaking Mandarin, and me replying in English for the rest of the bus ride.

During this whole exchange, I had all sorts of mixed feelings. I was confused why she switched languages in the first place. I was annoyed at her speaking Mandarin and putting me in the awkward position of deciding what to speak. I felt awkward because I didn’t want to be hearing or speaking Mandarin in public spaces. But mainly, I felt ashamed for feelings all these emotions in the first place.

It made me think about the reasons why I grew up with such an aversion to speaking Mandarin in public places.

It could be due to going to elementary school where we distanced ourselves from the ESL students who only spoke Mandarin or Cantonese and who didn’t want anything to do with us either. It could have stemmed from watching movies and comedy acts where the only representation of Chinese persons spoke with exaggerated accents.

And inevitably, it got me thinking about my years at Chinese School.

I thought about how much I hated going to Chinese School every Saturday. As an aside, this was not always the case. Before grade four, I went to an after-school Chinese program offered at my elementary school. The teachers there were kind, and I remember making lots of crafts, listening to stories, and just generally enjoying myself. Then we moved, and my parents sent me to “legitimate Chinese School”, complete with levels and report cards and everything. Looking back now, I hated going there every week because I was ashamed. I was ashamed to be in a class where most of the kids were a good two to three grades below me and still be struggling with pinyin quizzes when they were effortlessly composing beautifully flawless prose (it seemed this way to my grade-school self). I was so ashamed that I chose to find a way to be superior instead. I bet those kids are doing awfully in REAL school I would think to myself whenever the teacher showcased some kid’s work that was riddled with words I’ve never even heard of. (Yes, I was easily already in Grade six and I was being petty with kids in Grade three.) This at least made my shame easier to swallow. I put twice as much effort into convincing myself that Mandarin was stupid as I did into my Chinese School homework. And for a while it worked. For a while I was proud that I only spoke Mandarin when I absolutely had to. I was proud that it is much easier for me to speak and think in English than in Mandarin. I was proud that I couldn’t read in Chinese anymore.

As I got older however, my perspectives changed. Not completely, but at least when it came to learning Mandarin. I realized when my grandparents came to live with us, that I could no longer communicate with them. The only conversations, or rather sentences I could say to them were about whether or not school is going well, whether or not I’m hungry, and whether or not I’m warm enough. I couldn’t talk to them about what I’m studying, things I’m interested in, and ideas I’m exploring. I couldn’t ask them about their childhoods, their passions and disappointments, or even just how their day went beyond the superficial.

It made me think about how much the “English-only” rule at school helped me learn English and how much it hurt me in more ways a language should.

The next time I run into the same family friend again, I’m not going to feel uncomfortable if she chooses to speak in Mandarin, because it’s not my place to decide what language another person should speak or feel most comfortable in. Instead, I will take it as a learning, and unlearning, experience: learning to reacquaint myself with the first language I learned and the language of my ancestors, and unlearning the negativity I’ve collected over the years towards the language.

I feel most of this blog has been focussed on my opinions and experiences with internalized racism so I’ve asked some people to contribute their own perspectives on internalized racism. The feedback I received was overwhelming and all of the insightful posts have made me consider issues I’ve never thought about before. Each of the responses I received were unique, and goes to show how internalized racism can manifest itself in such different ways.

I hope these stories resonates as much with you as they did with me:

I feel like internalized racism (and the process of unlearning it) is quintessential to the experience of being diasporic. I spent a lot of years perfecting my English because I used to be really ashamed of my accent, and even now I feel self-conscious sometimes when I speak because the fear of “slipping up” is always in the back of my mind. I say this with a certain level of resentment, but I guess I “pass” as someone who was born in an English-speaking environment now. This “achievement” came after years of denying my own ancestry and lying compulsively about being born in Canada and consciously Not associating myself with Chinese culture, saying things like, “I don’t think I really belong in China” and “they do things differently there” and “I’m more Canadian than anything else” until they became true. I used to hate Chinese as a language and I refused to speak it even when it was the most convenient because I was so ashamed of it and of myself. Nowadays I speak and write perfectly in English and I think Chinese is the most beautiful language I’ve ever heard or read but I can no longer communicate with my parents in complete sentences. Internalized racism is a self-fulfilling prophecy in this way. You convince yourself day after day that you don’t have an ancestry and one day you realize you really don’t. Not anymore.

-Coco Zhou

In the quiet suburb where I grew up, white was normal. Christian was normal. White picket fences and wholesome blond families were normal. Dark skin was not. My mixed race family was quite the cause for gossip. I remember listening to our tottering old mailwoman describe me as the “little Indian girl” to our neighbours. From a very young age, I understood that I was different. Each year on Christmas Eve, the majority of my neighbourhood would crowd into the local church for a special service. The adults would light candles and sing and the children would dress up as angels, twirling around in a horribly un-practiced dance routine. When I heard about the celebration from some friends I was instantly in awe. This was Christmas, and I wanted to be a part of the magic. My fairly agnostic parents appeased me, and agreed to attend the Christmas Eve service. When the call came for the young girls in the audience to come don the flowing white robes and golden halos I was quivering with excitement. However, as I looked around at the other girls dressed in white and gold, I realized each one of them was perfectly fair skinned. I stuck out horribly, the only dark skinned angel. I felt my stupid too-dark skin burn up, and hid beneath my thick, too-dark hair. I stumbled through the dance and returned to my seat, bursting with shame. It was obvious to me that I didn’t fit in. The next year I returned to the service, but ostracized myself from the angel dance. Angels were white, I reasoned. They were blond and blue-eyed. I sat in the pew as the fair-skinned girls in their pretty white dresses flew by, glowing halos framing their beautiful blond hair.

-Anonymous

For me, I never experienced internalized racism myself even though I lived in other country for half of my life. But I see a lot of my friends and other children who are moving into Hong Kong at very young age not thinking Korean is important to learn. Mainly because of the parents who prioritize the English education more than Korean education. I do understand that the parents are doing this so that they could adjust to new life and language and get good grades in school. But for me, it was different case since I HAD to speak Korean in order to communicated with parents and to help them. So whenever I see people not considering Korean as important language to speak; by speaking only in English even though they are asked questions in Korean or trying to communicated less in Korean even with their families. For my age, my friends were less about it but it got more serious as the younger ones came to Hong Kong in their early age. I heard a lot of complains from my art teacher in Hong Kong that current young students going abroad has lack of knowledge in language of Korea and History of Korea. I do understand why it is like that but still I felt it was quite ridiculous for “Koreans” to not feel anything toward their own countries “history” or “language”. On my perspective, maybe because I prefer to speak Korean often than any other languages except it is essential. One of the other things that I experience is standard beauty of “Asianess”. My mother when she meets neighbours, she sometimes jokingly(?) say how I need plastic surgery to make my eyes bigger and raise my nose to look more beautiful. Personally, I don’t think I am that pretty but still satisfied with how I look never considered putting knife on my face. Also, I see a lot of friends actually wanting plastic surgery and even considering them due to their unsatisfied look (possibly from social media which spread what is beautiful). I felt like it is also ridiculous since people are only valuing you according to your “outer beauty” instead of “inner beauty”. So I feel weird about it.

– Yumi Chung

I think one typical internalized racism I heard of is when police prioritize foreigner’s report on crimes such as stolen items before that of the locals. The Chinese “netizens” (people who comment online) made fun of this situation by posting advertisement online to recruit foreigners to help Chinese report stolen items so the police process the reports faster.

– Sirapatsorn Ruayrungruang

Like many other first-generation immigrants who arrived at Canada at a young age, I’ve internalized racism and I’m still working on purging it from my system. I suspect that internalized racism, especially when espoused by people of colour themselves, is more insidious, common and harmful than the sort of racism that is blatant and more easily recognizable. I have participated in stereotyping. When my Chinese-Canadian classmates did well in math, it was simply a case of “Asians are good at math”. When they didn’t, I saw the failure as an exception to the rule, an aberration. I applied the same unfair expectation to myself, which unhelpfully added to the distress and shame I experienced during the times I didn’t do so well at math myself. Another instance of internalized racism was the presumed superiority of an area where there were many white families to one where there were many families of colour. This even affected perceptions of high schools. A good environment was code for “many white students”, and that was more desirable than one with many Asian students. I also remember the times when I refused to speak Chinese in public, or acknowledge that I could, even when it was obvious that it make communication infinitely easier for the other person. I didn’t want to be Chinese during those moments, so I feigned an air of superiority and instead of being kind, I chose to be mean. Although I’ve never ventured into the territory of outright hatred for my heritage, I’ve watched a few friends dip a toe into those waters. They became eager to expunge any trace of Chinese-ness from their person and their life. The rejection of their culture, which was also my culture, really stung, as if it were a criticism of me. That was painful to witness.

To recount every incident of internalized racism that I’ve personally been witness to would probably fill a phone book.

– Susan Ding

This article by Justin Chan explores the lack of realistic and dynamic representation of Asians in Hollywood. The statistics are troubling and I think the lack of representation is evident as we look around us at commercials, book characters, and video games. This picture, taken from Fusion, shows just how sparse Asian representation in media is:

As well, “of the nearly 800 actors considered main cast members across more than 100 network TV shows, just 52 (6.6 percent) are of Asian descent.”

And when there are Asian bodies in the media, they often play insignificant roles and/or are over-stereotyped. Asian men are often desexualized and play characters meant to be laughed at. This can be seen in the role of the angry Asian neighbour (played by Mickey Rooney – a white man) in Breakfast at Tiffany’s as well as the role of Mike Yanagita, played by Steve Park in the movie Fargo.

Asian women on the other hand often play roles that fall into the stereotype of the quiet, obedient, often helpless, Oriental doll. This stereotype can be seen in many films such as You Only Live Twice and Pitch Perfect.

The article also discusses the issue of mixed-race performers, more specifically performers who identify as both white and Asian. “Television, generally unable to deal with racial difference more complex than the black-white binary, has no idea what to do with mixed-race Asians,” Jung writes. “Basically, if you pass as white, it’s a don’t ask, don’t tell type of situation.”

The article mentions the role of Angela Montenegro in the show Bones played by Michaela Conlin. Conlin is half-Chinese herself, and is half-Chinese in the show as well. The article applauds this role as a step forward; however, having watched the show, I’ve noticed that her being mixed-race is only mentioned briefly in the show and the show never mentions her Chinese mom, and only her Caucasian dad appears, and is ever mentioned.

I think another issue worth bringing up is that for many roles played by Asian bodies, their Asianness is either their entire character (e.g. exaggerated accents), or none at all. There is no in-between.

With the evident lack of real representation of Asian heritage, I think it’s unsurprising that many people with Asian heritage internalized racism growing up in North America.

I came across this post by Amy Sun on everyday feminism when I first chose this topic and it gave me the inspiration and final push to choose internalized racism as the topic of my blog. What I enjoyed most about her piece was how she discussed internalized racism in such a personal way. Although I did not grow up in a “community where Asians were rare”, many of the issues she brought up in her article resonated with me, especially when she discussed how even as she tried to assimilate into the culture around her, she was constantly reminded of her Asianness. However I choose to define myself, I will always be classified as “Asian” by other people. For years (and even today), I find myself trying very hard to distance myself from being define that way.

I found it especially powerful when she made the confession that she herself is not perfect. It took her a long time to realize how internalized racism has impact her life, and how, even after realizing it, she still lets it dictate her choices at times. It makes me think about how deeply-rooted internalized racism is. It hides itself within, and often passes as insecurity, which makes it difficult to be identified. And once it finally gets identified, it has already become so embedded in our unconscious that it is hard to stop it from influencing our thoughts and actions.

Amy Sun’s struggles of trying to fit in while also being true to herself and how she finally reconciled with the struggle is an empowering read that I highly recommend. Enjoy!

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.”

-Romeo and Juliet (II.ii.1-2)

When I turned 19, I legally changed my name from my Chinese name to Adeline, which my parents so ceremoniously chose out of the back pages of a dictionary when I was six upon our arrival in Canada. This was a big deal to me. Growing up, Adeline was the name I used and associated myself with (and I still do); however, on legal documents, I was known as Yuanshu, or Yuan Shu, or YuanShu…I still can’t figure out which one it is…

I remember having to correct every one of my teachers on the first day of school as they struggled through trying to pronounce my legal name before giving me a look of relief when I explained they could call me Adeline instead. This moment was accurately captured in the TV show “Fresh off the Boat” when the main character, Eddie gets introduced by his teacher on his first day of school.

People who have only ever known me as Adeline (which was basically everyone) would look at me with confusion the first few times they hear me being called by a different name, or see me filling out a form with my legal name.

This is not an uncommon experience growing up as a Chinese immigrant in Vancouver. Many of my friends have expressed similar experiences growing up learning when it’s okay to just used a preferred name and when a legal name is required. We’ve bonded over the struggles of trying to remember which version of our legal names is used on which documents and the ‘correct’ way to write our legal names on forms.

Growing up, I can’t recall an instance when I’ve been made fun of for my name, although I know friends who have been, but I still grew up with a feeling of embarrassment by it. I felt like, and still often do feel like, it is something I should hide away and not associate myself with. Often I feel ashamed when people see my legal name for the first time and ask me how it’s pronounced even when they seem genuinely interested.

I’d like to say that now that I’m older, this feeling of embarrassment for something I should be embracing as part of myself has gone away, but I’d be lying. Even through my first years of university, I felt a sense of annoyance every time I had to put down my legal name on an exam. I have no idea where this sense of shame originated from, but I find myself wondering if this is also a form of internalized racism.

I find myself wondering why I felt so strongly about legally changing my name. Is it simply because I associate with ‘Adeline’ more? It is after all the name I’ve used for most of my life. Or is this me trying to fit in and prove myself as being more ‘Canadian’ in some sense?

And after reading an article from the Globe and Mail on how having an ethnic-sounding name on resumes decreases the chances for a call-back, I wonder about the ways I have unintentionally benefited from having associated more with my Anglo name. And I wonder about how differently other people, and myself, may perceive me had my parents not given me an Anglo name.

A friend recently brought to my attention this new trend (correct me if I’m wrong, and this has always been a thing…) of contouring Asian faces to look more stereotypically Caucasian. The video I found gives tips on how to make flat Asian noses more prominent, to look like this (picture from original post):

And there are many many other videos like this out there. As someone who really has no experience with makeup, I didn’t quite know what to make of it. Is this a form of internalized racism? Or just artistic expression?

A quick search on Google for Asian beauty standards or makeup tutorials will spit out a ton of advice on how to lighten Asian skin, get creased eyelids, and make cheekbones more prominent. Then there’s the trend of coloured contacts and blonde hair amongst East Asians. These beauty fads and standards exist not only amongst Asians living in Western countries, but in Asian countries as well.

Aside from makeup, plastic surgery has become very popular in East Asia, especially “nose jobs (rhinoplasty) and eyelid lifts (blepharoplasty)”. The article by CNN (link above) states that “one in five South Korean women from 19 to 49 have undergone cosmetic surgery, according to a 2009 survey from market-research firm Trend Monitor. That’s reportedly compared to about one in 20 in the United States.”

These statistics are more alarming when the article describes how often these surgeries are performed on young people who pressured by their parents to go under the knife.

Below are some before and after photos of nose jobs and eyelid lifts:

Are these beauty standards a form of internalized racism? Or are they harmful and oppressive simply like every other form of beauty standards? Or is this really a non-issue and just human tendency to have what we don’t have?

These are questions I struggle with myself. Comment below with your opinions and experiences!

(Plastic surgery link from CNN courtesy of Sirapatsorn Ruayrungruang Andrea. Thank you!)

Hello,

As a Chinese-Canadian who has lived in Vancouver since I was six years-old, I did not realize the extent to which I’ve been trying to ‘white-out’ my ‘Asianess’ (yes, please appreciate my pun…it took hours and buckets of brainpower…) until very recently. I had a happy, pretty uneventful childhood, but lately I find myself analyzing it for sources where I’ve internalized racism and how that internalized racism has influenced my life. I’ve come to realize that racism is not always blatant and clear-cut, but can manifest in the societal norms that we’ve come to accept and in turn, perpetuate.

Through my blog, I wish to explore the ways racism becomes internalized, and how that internalized racism can influence a person’s decisions, beliefs, actions etc. I wish to reach others in situations like my own because I think internalized racism, at least amongst Asians, is not a topic that is commonly discussed. Perhaps that avoidance or reluctance to discuss the topic, whether consciously or unconsciously, is due to the belief that ignoring the issue will make it go away and talking about it will somehow substantiate it. Regardless of the reason for the lack of discussion on internalized racism, I think opening up a conversation is important because it can help people gain greater self-awareness when they analyze the reasons behind their thoughts and actions. I also hope to reach people who are not of Asian descent so that they can understand how they intentionally and unintentionally reinforce racial stereotypes and the damaging effects those stereotypes can have on other people.

I believe recognizing internalized racism is the first step towards lessening the power it holds over us.

Happy reading!

P.S. For a friend who really really wanted the title of this blog to be “Bananas and Coconuts”…here’s a picture of a banana and a coconut…(they look like they’re pals!)