Loaded Questions
JDT
As Asian Americans, we’ve all heard them all before. Those groan-inducing and sometimes eye-rolling questions. And the pattern always seems to be the same.
“Where are you from?”
“Oh, I mean where are you really from?”
“Uh… where are your parents from?”
These are questions I’ve heard my entire life so I’ve established my own patterns in the way that I respond. Sometimes I get straight to the point after the very first question - Oh, I was born in the U.S. and my parents immigrated from Taiwan. Other times if I happen to be in a more sour mood, I drag it out a question at a time to play along and to be brutally honest, maybe even watch the person asking the question squirm a little as it gets uncomfortable. Sometimes it will end at that but in the past, I’ve even received follow-up comments such as “Wow, that explains why your English is so good” or “I never would have guessed”. My usual response there is to nod and smile.
Yes, oftentimes these questions are usually simply innocent inquiries from folks genuinely interested in my ethnic background, even other fellow Asians or Asian-Americans. There’s typically no overt racism intended. But what I’ve learned is that these questions are basically within what is termed microaggressions: everyday, subtle, and intentional/unintentional interactions or behaviors that communicate some sort of bias.
“Hey Bruce, can you teach me some karate moves?”
As I watched this blond-haired white kid do some silly punches and kick around like a fish out of water, I could only roll my eyes and laugh inside. I was taught from an early age that this sort of thing would happen. So even though I could easily say I didn’t know a lick of martial arts and tell this young man that what he said was offensive (note the reference to “Bruce” was to Bruce Lee), all I did was simply force a smile and walk away. That’s what I was supposed to do.
I was already in high school at this time so I’d heard plenty of this kind of stuff before. From the goofy rhymes with hand movements (“Chinese, Japanese, Dirty Knees, Look at These”), the jokes filled with racial stereotypes (“What do you call a fat Chinese kid? A Chunk!”), to the requests of language translation (“Hey how do you say %!@# in Chinese?), I grew up always knowing that I was different.
Growing up in an area of the United State where there weren’t many that looked like me, I guess it could be understandable. After all, when the racial demographics of my school were released to the public, the breakdown was listed as 90% white, 10% black. I wonder to this day exactly which bucket I was placed in. It’s almost as if I really didn’t matter, so why would a little light-hearted fun toward me be hurtful?
This was all back in the 1980s. I now know that those types of interactions were microaggressions and I didn’t really know how to deal with those then. The trouble is that if I shared my experiences with someone I trusted, often the response would be, “oh he was just kidding” or, “just let it go, that’s just how it is.” I didn’t feel validated and felt as if the only way to cope with the shame and marginalization was to internalize and stuff it. Resentment became my personal method to cover up the shame. And from that grew other mental health issues that I continue to work through today.
I’m grateful that recently it’s changed for me. Most importantly, I’m willing to talk about these things. Writing them down in a blog has helped. But I’m also able to verbalize not only with a mental health professional to help me process them but also with others who have shared my experience or could learn from it, and even those who could be considered perpetrators of this behavior.
I happen to work for a fairly progressive organization when it comes to these types of issues and especially since racial tensions have escalated in 2020, our leaders have made it a priority for us to participate in training on DEIA - Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Access. One of our recent sessions covered microaggressions and their effects in the workplace. It was an opportunity to not only teach us what microaggressions were (not just racial, but also from the perspective of gender, sexuality, etc.) but also a safe place for us to discuss our experiences with them.
It wasn’t hard for me to speak up. I openly shared not only about my experiences from the past growing up Asian American in this country but even about current instances at our workplace. One specific example came to mind.
Pre-COVID, my office space was located on the top floor of our building, where most of the executive team and academics are housed. On the fifth floor was where the majority of the IT team was housed. There have been numerous times where I got on the elevator on the first floor and there was already someone inside, more than happy to help and press whatever floor I needed for me. This in itself was perfectly fine, after all, it’s a genuine offer of assistance, and who doesn’t like that? However, there have been multiple times where some additional assistance was volunteered.
“Do you need the Fifth floor?”
Obviously, they were probably not fully conscious of this, but the model minority myth was clearly at work. Since I’m Asian American I must work in the IT department, right? Politely I’ve simply corrected them and told them the right floor I needed. While sometimes it was no harm, no foul, there have been other times where it’s definitely bugged me and I’ve even been known to throw an awkward glare or two.
At least it’s been nice to know that I’m not alone. With the same elevator example, one time both a colleague of Indian descent who also works on the same floor and I got on at the same time. The white woman asked which floor and suggested five, and of course, we both corrected her with our current floor. She got off on an earlier floor and when the door closed, and as my colleague and I turned to lock eyes, he simply smiled and said, “All the time”. All we could do is laugh.
As funny as that situation was looking back, I’ve come to believe that these microaggressions are little pinpricks that end up adding up over time. And if not addressed, it could turn into something much bigger, maybe even an explosion. I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to share some of these experiences because I’ve learned that shedding light on things like this often kills the power they have over us. I don’t deny but rather acknowledge my feelings and know that they are OK. And if the situation warrants in the future, depending on my relationship with the person making the microaggressions, I can choose to have a conversation and promote understanding.
We don’t have to be passive when it comes to microaggressions. We don’t have to fall into the stereotypes of Asian Americans that we’ll simply be quiet, accept the marginalization, bite our lip, and move on. We can speak up and let our voices be heard.