By Sabrina Lin (guest author)
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Sriracha: The Spice of the Asian-American Lifestyle
The new SCA-5 law that may be passed soon brings up lots of feelings of unfair and unequal treatment. The law wants to repeal Proposition 209, which states that the government cannot base admission to a public state school based off race, ethnicity, or sex. As an Asian American living in San Francisco, I often take the respect that I receive as a person, regardless of the fact that I’m Asian, for granted. But I’ve realized over the years that once you venture outside of the Asian bubbles in California, Asian people are often ridiculed or considered second-class citizens. The ridiculousness of these actions either bring me to tears or makes me want to punch all those ignorant people in the face or in the balls, depending on the gender. (Though, I’ve heard that getting kicked in the crotch regardless of gender is quite painful.) I would say that I’m pretty damn American; in fact, quite a number of my peers and friends say that I’m whitewashed. My favorite cuisine is Italian, my Chinese is quite mediocre, and my favorite subject is history, not math. (Seriously people, I hate math. My C in Precalc Honors will prove it to you.) My family and I do family hiking trips and travel the country just to walk trails, love baseball and are season ticket holders for the Giants, and relax like every other stereotypical American, through eating and watching TV. So please, next time, before you start generalizing all Asian Americans, think of me coming to you and kicking you in the balls or not-balls. But the one thing that irks me the most about Asian generalizations is one that I already hinted at, academic excellence. Holy F!@#, if another person comes up to me and says, “Hey Asian girl! Wanna help me with this math problem,” someone is going to get murdered. STOP. JUST. NO. Not all Asians are good at math y’know? In fact, here’s a news breaker, NOT ALL ASIANS ARE GOOD AT SCHOOL. Sure, you’re always going to have those really smart Asian kids who take 7 AP classes and then manage to get a 5.0. Those are the ones that you will always think of us Asian kids as, but really, think about it realistically. People often only think of the cream of the crop or the worst of us all, but no one stops to pay attention to the majority of us in the middle. Most of my friends have B’s on our transcripts. (OH NO, B’S? WHAT IS THIS? WHY HASN’T YOUR FAMILY DISINHERITED YOU YET?) My grades aren’t stellar at all, and I’m pretty sure I’m almost like the average American kid who wants to go to a decent college. But just because I’m Asian, people set my standards higher because I’m supposed to be that perfect student. The SCA-5 law will make my journey to getting to a UC even more difficult than ever just because of my ethnic background. It’s not based off my academics, personal statement, or extracurriculars. How is this fair? Why am I, just another student getting a public education in the state that often scores the lowest and has one of the lowest education budgets in the country, getting singled out because I’m “supposed” to be better and more academically driven than any other race? The entire state of California is fueling the segregation of races, trying to divide the melting pot that the United States is. Now, Amy Chua and her book about how Asians are successful and all that jazz isn’t helping my case. (No, my mother did not threaten to burn all my stuffed animals if I wasn't perfect and force me to practice the violin for hours a day.) But if you think about it, she helps me prove my following point. Asians are afraid of failure. Failure is not an acceptable option. Thinking about the famous and successful people, the Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerbergs, and the Steve Jobs, of the world, notice how they aren’t Asian? When you think of successful Americans, do you think of an Asian person? Probably not. My Asian and American instincts are pulling at me; my Asian ones tell me that failure will result in the world ending, but my American ones tell me that I will rise and do better next time, as cheesy as that sounds. And by learning more and more about myself over the years, the American approach is the better option for me. But with SCA-5 possibly going to be in play when it is my turn to submit those dreaded college applications, where can I possibly fail and learn? Must I always be another incredibly successful stereotypical Asian in the fact that I get a respectable job that pays extremely well? I’ve always known that I don’t want to just disappear into the San Francisco fog as just another well off Asian person. This may be my 16, almost 17 year old naiveté, but I want to be the risk taker, the greater fool, the person that makes an impact on the world, especially in college, where I will have the chance to experience the world in a whole different light.
By Sabrina Lin (guest author) Submit your writing here Like us on Facebook
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Now, before we get started, I guess I should give some background on myself and my life. I am Asian-American living near Ocean Street. My Chinese mother is from Emeryville, Ca and my father from HK. By blood, I am a European, Indonesian, Chinese American. (As if this doesn't give enough to explain the title) For most of my childhood, I have identified more with my Chinese side. However, I have always felt have in and half out of the Chinese community...and here's why.
As many San Franciscans know, there is a large Chinese population within our 49 square miles. Most of us are from Canton/Hong Kong. Likewise, Cantonese is more dominant here than Mandarin. You can here waiters shouting Canto in a dim sum house and endure a Chinese grandmother arguing on the Muni. The pre-recordings on Muni speak it. Kids speak it. Adults speak it. Every Cantonese person in this city speaks it...except for me. I'm one of the few first generation Cantonese-Americans who doesn't know how to carry a conversation in our language. Sure, I know how to order food, insult people when needed, and the difference between m goi and do jeh (both=thank you), but ask me about the weather and all you will get is a smile followed by my insecure voice in English. Ever since I walked into preschool, I have always been jealous of all my friends who can speak. I often wonder what it would be like if I did. Often, I feel left out because I can’t understand. Often a friend will start speaking in Canto to my other friends and while I miss the whole conversation even though I’m sitting with them. (The amount of jokes and gossip I haven’t understood could fill a book) And don’t get me started on the looks I get. “Oh…so you’re first generation, and your dad is from Hong Kong…and you don’t know how to speak Canto…(insert puzzled judgmental look)…well thats ok.” Yep. I’ve gotten that look from people my age to senior citizens. The look I get when I tell people I can speak Spanish is even better. (Been studying since 3rd grade) Canto has been a wall that blocks me from connecting to my Chinese side. I know it really shouldn’t but it does. There are moments where I feel like a Chn-Am expat in China, an outsider looking in at one own’s culture. Yet, getting back to my cultural confusion, there are moments where I feel like singing the Chinese national anthem at the top of my voice. For about 9 years of my life, I went to a rich, private K-8 school in Pac-Heights. While I did learn a lot at my school, I was the butt of many jokes. Like a lot of Asians, maybe not here in SF but in other cities, I endured being treated like a second class citizen. To many of my classmates, I was that Asian kid who was so Asian and for some reason didn’t act like “normal” American kids. The ironic part though…wait for it…is that it was mainly the hapa kids who made jokes about me. It always amazed me that someone could come up to me and say “You look and act so Asian…whats wrong with you?” with a face that looked more Chinese than mine. After pondering this daily occurrence, I realized that they felt ashamed to be Asian and wanted me to share their shame. While being made fun of for years was not fun, it did cultivate a lot of pride in my heritage that helped with my lack of Canto skills. This pride has stayed with me to this day. It also made me realized that while having pride in my culture was important, it was also important to have pride in my individual self. As I write this article, I’m blasting the latest K-pop songs along with a few Narcrocorridos (Mexican ballads about drugs) into my ears. I’m drinking Genmai Cha while eating ice cream with chopsticks, though very quickly before it melts. I’m texting my Latino friends in Spanish while updating my status of Facebook. I realize I’m not the most typical Chinese-American, but that’s ok. I’m happy with the way things are. San Francisco is a Meca for diversity. I like to think culturally confused kids like me at to it. by James Wen Growing up as an Asian-American, there have always been "interesting" moments. While most Asians experience racism/ignorance with phrases such as "Where are you from?" and "You speak great English", I have always had my experiences in elevators. The first instance was in Virginia two years ago. I got into the hotel elevator after dinner and as the doors were about to close, a man walked in. He pressed his button for his floor and turned around. The expression on his face as his eyes met me were of pure shock and horror. He quickly left as the elevator as its doors slammed shut. Being from San Francisco, I definitely don't have to deal with racism on a daily basis such as much other people. Consequently, I was felt shock and horror myself. Why does he not like me? He doesn't even know me.
Fast forward to one week ago. Again, my family and I were in a hotel. We approached an elevator with a family already waiting to get on. As we waited, one of their kids scanned us from our shoes to our hats and quickly moved to the other side of the room. When the elevator came, all of us got in. As the it slowly made its way down, the family just glared at us. I found myself caught in a conflict. Do I say something or do I just let it go? What do you say when someone does that? While these two experiences don't make up all of my "elevator" episodes, they are the ones that stand out to me: not because they hurt me, but because they gave me a greater appreciation for other people. The cold looks that came down on me made me think of how the world would be better if everyone accepted each other. It made me think of how I view people and how I express it. While experiencing discrimination is never fun, it can definitely be a way to reflect on how you may be just like the people that just offended you. by James Wen |
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