If I were asked what my racial identity is, I would respond with pride by saying I was Taiwanese/Chinese. I’d purposely point out that it was not just Asian. But this wasn’t always the case. From the time when I was born up till the time I was in 6th grade, I had literally no conception of what it meant to be Asian, I just knew that’s what I was. Maybe it was because I was sheltered and the issue (or problem) of race never come up.

Here’s how my awareness came about.

I was raised in Orlando, Florida until 5th grade. The only other Asian person I knew was my best friend, Angela. Back in elementary school the older kids never associated with the younger ones, so if there were any other Asian kids, I had no idea. Now that I think of it, maybe subconsciously we became best friends because we were the only Asians we knew. But I know we didn’t purposely think of it that way. I hadn’t realized until now that teachers labeled us "the Asians" of our class. We’d been put in the stereotypical category of the studious/smart Asians. For example, to practice reading skills the teacher had the kids read to her. But after a week the teacher started having the kids read to me and Angela. They started treating us differently, like they expected more out of us. Of
course, I had no clue then that that was the reason. Then middle school came.

By that time, I moved to Texas. I had a sense of what my race was but no idea how it made me different. In seventh grade someone asked me what country I was from, and that’s when it hit. I looked around and saw the room was filled with white people. I was so embarrassed to say I was Asian, didn’t even think about going into detail by saying Chinese. I very much regret that now. I just didn’t want to get criticized by my classmates for being different. At school I’d noticed other people getting teased for small things. For instance if someone wore something out dated, or their lunch looked gross, if a girl’s favorite color was blue instead of pink like the other girls, etc. Even the teachers got teased behind their back. So my understanding was if I was different from the "cool" kids I’d be a "loser." I had no cultural racial pride. Whenever anyone asked me to speak Chinese, and I complied, they would try to imitate me. But they did it in a mocking way, by saying something along the lines of "Ching-Chang-Chong" and giggling afterwards. I was also annoyed by the way other kids would pull back the skin near their eyes and say, "Look at me! I’m Chinese, I’m Japanese!" I’m not sure if they were deliberately trying to hurt me or if they just did it for laughs, but all the same it made me ashamed to say what I was. I stayed this way for a couple years until about end of my freshman year of high school.

I most definitely remember the start of my turning point when my self-perception started changing. It was the beginning of ninth grade, and I was thirteen years old. I was on the internet talking to a friend of mine whom I’d never met; he was Hispanic and lived in San Jose. We talked about the usual things like movies, school, people we knew, blah, blah, blah. Then the question came, "What’s your background?" I remember pausing and thinking about my answer. I was still convinced that if I said Asian he would think I was a loser and not talk to me. So I was stalling. Then he instant-messaged me and said someone had sent him a picture of me through email. I was so nervous! I was trying to picture the look on his face; maybe it was a look of regret for talking to me, or the look of disgust because I was Asian. What he said greatly surprised me: "Oh, you’re Asian! I think you’re very cute!" Bam! My self-esteem had escalated. Before I had never heard anyone talk about Asians in a positive way besides being academically superior. And to hear that coming from someone who wasn’t Asian made me believe it. I was no longer ashamed to say it, but I still didn’t have pride in it.

That was just the beginning, though. After my conversation with my friend from San Jose, my eyes began opening. I became friends with some of the Asians whom I’d met at school. I noticed they all had so much Asian pride. They had their own Asian gang at school, only wore colors of their country, they only listened to Asian music, only ate Asian food, etc. At times their pride was too much. The Asian kids would pick fights with the Mexicans because they believed they were better than the Mexican kids. It even got to the point when some got suspended for talking to the teacher with no respect. I recall one day sitting in math class, my teacher, Mr. Kutchins, was white. Mr. Kutchins called on my Asian friend to answer a question and my friend responded, "Don’t talk to me, stupid white boy." They even gave me grief about not having enough pride, if any. Soon enough they were preaching to me about how Asians are the best, no one could be like us, etc. They all jammed to the same song, "Got Rice?" by Asian Pride. Everyone had heard the song before, even the white, black, and Hispanic kids. I was starting to buy into what they were preaching. As racist, disrespectful and rude these kids are, I’m glad I met them because I would not be the way I am now if I hadn’t. There was still that ignorant group in the halls I’d hear say, "Man, your eyes are so chinky" when they talked about someone who had just smoked. So I was coming out of my shell about my race but there were still a couple setbacks.

My mom had a friend, Kathleen, who worked as a teacher in a local college. Kathleen was white, but she was fascinated with the Asian culture. She was a Buddhist, and could write, read and speak Chinese better than I could. I was shocked to learn that someone would want to learn all that and that someone thought it was worth learning! From there I dramatically grew into the acceptance of myself. My brother Oliver was a senior at my school, and he was enormously active in making people aware of what was going on in the world. Besides going to protests, rallies, demonstrations, etc., Oliver also started up his own chapter of ARA (Anti-Racist Action) in Houston. His group would be at the house and they would all talk about the issues of race, and insist that people should take a stand and not be pushed around.

Adding to the influence I had at home, I had gotten my first serious boyfriend, who was Mexican/Spanish. It felt awesome to know that he loved me and accepted that I was Chinese. When I met his family, I thought I was going to be the outcast that everybody stared at. I couldn’t have been more wrong; his family was so incredibly welcoming! To my surprise they adored and loved the fact that I was not only different but that I was Asian. From then on I knew nothing of being embarrassed or shy to tell anyone my background. It was so awesome to lose the weight of humiliation when it was so pointless to have in the beginning. Again I have to remind you there are still those who believe in "Amerikkka" and would egg and prank call my house, call me a chink, etc.

The next step was moving to California. First I went to Millbrae/Burlingame, California. I thought my mom and I had boarded on the wrong flight and had gone to China! The city (or the part I was in) was filled with Asians. I felt as if I was being swallowed by Asians. It was the first time ever in my life I had become part of the majority instead of the usual minority. It was indeed bizarre and unnatural, but in a comforting way. So that brings me up to date now. I’m sitting here on the floor at my table, typing on my laptop. I had never actually thought about how the idea of race, my race, would affect me. It makes me wonder if the fact that I am Asian has made any affects on anyone else. Reflecting on my past made me notice that in my perspective I’ve come a long way from elementary school to now. But I also know that I’m young and I’ve got a long way to go. My eyes are only half open.