The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Allie Reese,
Washington, DC.
I’m a mixed white/Southeast Asian TCK: In the US, I’m some kind of Asian (but in Indonesia I’m ‘bule’, or a white foreigner). My childhood took place in neither of these countries. I don’t seem to have a place here, let alone anywhere.
Tiffany,
San Francisco, CA.
People who ask me this question aren’t convinced by my response that I was born and raised in Chicago, IL.
“Go back to China!” when I don’t respond to male strangers hitting on me.
#AnitaEllenSpeak
Adrienne Lau,
San Francisco, CA.
Let’s try to make a change!
Jina Lee,
Germantown, MD.
No, SRSLY though… I’ve gotten the “Do you speak English?” to “Wow! You actually speak English.” I’m American, and the year is 2015. Should these questions really be asked…now?
Denise Valstar,
Netherlands
Very often people ask me where I am from. I am born in the Netherlands, my parents are born here. The only reason for my ‘not so white’ skin is my grandmother who originates from Indonesia. I’ve been asked so many times if I speak Arabic or any other African or South American language. When I tell them I am just a Dutch woman, they blink and ask me if I’m sure.
Wel.. yes. I’m pretty sure I know where I come from. Thank you.
Margaret Lin,
Houston, TX.
Although ethnically Asian, I stick out like a sore thumb in Asia. When I visited China last summer, my mother told me that everyone there could tell I wasn’t raised in China. Perhaps it was the way I dressed, or my heavy accent when I attempted speaking Chinese, or how my mannerisms simply were not the same as theirs. I wasn’t fully aware of how different I was from everyone else until my grandmother commented (in Mandarin), “A Chinese person [zhong guo ren] who can’t speak Chinese; that’s just not right.” And my reaction surprised me – I felt somewhat repulsed and thought to myself: But I’m not a “zhong guo ren” (person from China). I’m a “mei guo ren” (person from America).
But at the same time, I knew even that wasn’t completely true. Although I was born in the US, I’m still seen as a foreigner here; after all, I have yellow skin, black hair, and “narrow” eyes. I live in an area relatively well-populated by Asians and go to a university with a sizeable number of Asians as well, but when I step outside of my bubble, I still run into people who are shocked that I speak perfect English. They ask me where I’m “really” from, and then repeat themselves when I answer that I’m from Texas.
So where does that put me? I can’t assume a “double consciousness”; I’ve been rejected by both of the cultures that I theoretically should identify with, and truth be told, I don’t see myself ever fitting into either anyway. My American upbringing makes me reject many aspects of Asian culture, such as the complete and utter deference to superiors that is such a crucial part of Confucianism; and yet, I can’t bring myself to reject my heritage and assimilate into full-on “whiteness” either. That makes me the mule; the mutt; the one oddball in the family whose faults each parent blames on the other.
Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not at all resentful of my unique identity. Am I confused by it? Yes. Do I feel lonely because of it? Sometimes. Am I disappointed in society’s inability to accommodate for it? Considerably. But am I bitter about it? No. There is nothing I would rather be than an Asian-American. Not Asian, nor American, but Asian-American.
David Chen,
New York, NY.
I grew up in China listening to artists like 50 cent, Tupac, Snoop dogg (lion), and Jay-Z. I have every one of Jay-Z’s songs memorized and for a Chinese kid, that wasn’t easy. For as long as I can remember, I was fascinated by African American (is this the politically correct term?) culture. As I started high school, I transitioned into R&B with Ne-Yo, Chris Brown and Jason Derulo. Back then, I dreamed of being black. In my head, blacks were talented at music, sports, and being “cool”.
Fast forward a few years, my parents decided to send me to college in the U.S. I found myself in Michigan, and my first roommate was an African American. He was one of the kindest and most loving people I’d ever met. He treated me like a brother, and I thought of him as my brother. He’d always ask me why I’m try to sound like him. It wasn’t intentional, I had learned most my English from rap songs.
After spending two years with my roommate, I became more and more involved with the African American community. I loved it, everyone I met was as kind as him.
Later I moved New York, and during my two years here, my perception was somewhat crushed. In my two years here, I had been robbed twice, and chased with a knife. The perpetrators were all African American. I started to develop a fear of the blacks in New York, I would walk away, from blacks at night, and would almost always speed up my pace. Subconsciously I felt horrible, I felt guilt, I felt shame, because I was slowly becoming the person I did not want to be. I felt like I was racist.
Recently my old roommate got married, and I was reminded of the wonderful times we spent together. I wish I could be that guy again, but I still cannot control the fear that I feel.
Tiffany,
San Francisco, CA.
People who ask me this question aren’t convinced by my response that I was born and raised in Chicago, IL.
“Go back to China!” when I don’t respond to male strangers hitting on me.
#AnitaEllenSpeak
Daryn Crowell
Denver, CO
I am a US citizen but my family moved to Peru when I was two years old. Basically my whole childhood was in Peru. I grew up with much of society telling me I could not consider myself in any degree Peruvian and that I was from the U.S. However, in the US in some respects I felt more like a foreigner than in Peru. It took me many years to reconcile my Peruvian and U.S. identities.
Susan
Eugene, OR
After a lifetime of feeling uncomfortable around most people, white or of any race, my face now defaults to a doubtful distrustful set of creases in the presence of strangers. Sometimes I feel like telling the rare black person I see off campus that I’m awkward around everyone, but it’s also true I’m sometimes more awkward around blacks. There can be a subtle tension. In this country I’m always aware of black people seeing me as a white person, but when I visited Liberia and Kenya, I felt more comfortable; I was viewed as a foreigner but not especially a white foreigner, and also I was there to volunteer so people seemed to feel more open, relaxed, matter-of-fact around me.
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