They could tell I wasn’t local just by looking at me.I had all the stereotypical facial features, but my composure, dress, and attitude was basically the equivalent of me wrapping myself in an American flag.
As a young child, I didn’t understand race or skin color. I hope I can speak for most Asian-Americans here, but there is that earth-shatterning moment in our childhood when we realize .
You can take it two ways: embrace that you’re not white or try everything in your power to become white.
It wasn’t until I couldn’t live up to the stereotype that the pressure truly manifested.
I wanted to write stories and make music for a living or design t-shirts and play soccer, not become an engineer, doctor, or lawyer.
Now, I understand why the discussion on race tends to be about blacks and whites.
America’s darkest days were about slavery and the civil rights movement.and most of the time I was just as lost as they were.But none of that mattered to me, I liked the attention and appreciated that people thought I was smart.You notice that not every grocery store carries Pocky and not every family speaks a different language at home.You also realize that it’s not that common to call everyone who’s older than you Uncle or Aunt.Experiencing first hand segregation and racism has made me despise my race for many years. I remember sitting in one of my media classes discussing race; we had spent weeks on how blacks and whites are portrayed in the media.