Kentucky is a funny place for Asian Americans to be. You can pioneer in activism and also be treated to a healthy dosage of what the activists faced in the civil rights era minus the lynchings, of course.
In Hastings, a book store chain similar to Borders, at the cultural studies section, they had almost no literature on Hispanic American or Asian American culture – fine, I could deal with that. But what happened after that really ticked me off, and it ignited something in me.
After a fun outing to Starbucks and Hastings, my friends and I headed to the skating rink in town. There were high schoolers and middle schoolers hanging out across the street. When my friends (who were white) got out of the car, they didn’t say anything. When I left, they were oohing and aahing at me.
So I did what my gut instinct told me to do: ignore it.
We went to the skating rink, and the manager there told us that they were closing in 20 minutes, deferring the three of us.
Going back to the car, one of the kids, short and stout, and probably not yet in high school, comes up to me and asks me in a really confrontational manner (and in a thick Kentuckian accent) - Do you speak English?
How do I diffuse this situation? I knifed him told him in my most Brooklyn accent possible, Yo, you got a problem?
Retrospectively, I came up with a rant to respond to these questions in the near future.
Yes, my great grandparents spoke English building railroads across the country.
Yes, my grandparents spoke English in the internment camps of California and Wyoming.
Yes, my parents spoke English trawling tuna in Washington and shrimp in Louisiana.
No, I guess I don’t speak English.
What really bothers me deeply is why these things happen. It’s different from when a little kid goes “Why is that guy’s skin color weird?” just because he or she hasn’t been exposed to other cultures. But this should not happen beyond a certain age. These ideas are reinforced by their parents, teachers, and people at their churches. It strongly bothers me that no one else will set them straight.
One of my good friends was called the N-word in one of these streets not too long ago. My experience is not hers, but I see where this idea breeds. Despite the rhetoric, race still is a problem in America. Whether I get told to “go back to China” in Elmhurst, Queens or asked “Do you speak English?” – we don’t live in a postracial society. And Asian Americans still strangers from a different shore, as the late Ronald Takaki states in his book.
Thanks, kid, for reminding me that I don’t belong here. Tell your parents that they’ve raised a good kid.
