Genie in Japan

Yellow is the New Black

So, I was at the mall today hanging out with my aunt. We walked past a massage stand, where you could get a quick shoulder/neck massage for 20 minutes at $20. She sat down to get a massage, and as I was sitting down waiting for her an intriguing thing happened. Well, maybe not intriguing, but interesting enough that I couldn’t forget about it all the way home.

A middle-aged Caucasian woman came up to the stand and said to the Chinese owners/employees, “Hey, is my girl here? You know, my girl with the clip in her hair? Is my girl here? I love that girl. Is my girl here?”

She might as well have said, “where’s my n*gger.”

I know she probably isn’t a racist. She probably didn’t mean any harm. The workers didn’t seem to notice or mind, answering back with big smiles and nods. As I was replaying that moment in my mind, asking myself whether I’m simply being overly sensitive, it occurred to me that Middle-Aged-Caucasian-Woman probably would not have referred to Chinese Masseuse as a possessive object had Chinese Masseuse been White Masseuse.

Racism, as in lynchings, “whites only” signs, and by any other blatant means, perhaps doesn’t exist in Los Angeles anymore. But it’s still alive in many other easier to ignore but harder to kill ways and expressions.

And by the way, I think I am being sensitive. It might be because I just started getting into Asian American Studies at school. Categorically, I might fall into the paler, whiter, “pastel Asian” group as according to my family’s literacy and socioeconomic background. But my eyes are opening to the world of those Asians in America who are the deep mustards, ambers, and tans of society.

A call to all suburban Asian kids: we speak English, so let’s speak up for our parents, our people.