Monday, July 30, 2007

Preference or fetish? The debate continues...

I've talked about Yellow Fever before, and according to one person, I've bludgeoned it to death with my never-ending discussion but after reading this article on Racialicious.com (where I get my cheery daily reports of racism) I'm just plain confused. For those of you who aren't as nerdily or morbidly obsessed with race, the article raises the question of where the line is to be drawn between a preference or a fetish and whether one can fetishize one's own race. Personally, that line has become a dot to me.

I will openly admit that I have been fetishized but have also fetishized others. In my daily conversations with friends, I hear myself proclaiming: "I want a (insert race here) guy," and now when I think about that, it just sounds wrong. When it comes down to really liking someone, I don't discriminate based on colour but what does it mean when I say I prefer a certain race?



(Unlike reality, in Paint-World, I can drive. And I drive in style.)

I usually explain my "colour preferences" by saying that I just feel a little more comfortable around people of colour (maybe out of my own insecurities) or that I just find them more attractive. Although that isn't to say that I don't find white guys attractive, because you all know my past *rolls eyes.* In reaction to all that Yellow Fever business, I've taken the extreme route of constantly telling people that I want an Asian man. I judge girls who say they will only date white guys and will never date an Asian guy. To compensate for their lack of taste, I tell people that Asian guys are at the top of my list, though that doesn't really mean anything in practice.

That brings me to the other question of whether I'm fetishizing my own race and on the same note, dating an Asian or coloured guy certainly doesn't mean that I won't be fetishized. I'm confused. I find a lot of Asian guys extremely attractive but I don't think it has anything to do with what I think they'll be like in terms of who they are as a person. But when I say that I think Filippino guys are especially hot because a lot of the ones I see lately can dance pretty damn well and I find that sexy as hell...is it a race thing or a dance thing?? Hmm...I actually think it may be the latter.

When we joke around, what does it mean to have jungle/brown/yellow or white (??) fever?

And I hate that I feel like I have to defend myself but YES I am aware that there are serious issues in this world other than race. I do take race seriously and if you have a problem, suck it. I'm sick of people telling me what I should or shouldn't care about and this will be the first and last time I'll defend myself on this blog.

Peace out homies.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Quarter life crisis?

Disclaimer: I am feeling dramatic.

This year, almost all my friends graduated from university. There are a few going on to do further education and for the rest of us, we have the very exciting and torturous task of taking on the wonderful world of employment - wait, scratch that - of unemployment. For the first time in our lives since we were 3, we don't know what we're doing come September. I could sit on my ass from September to December if I really wanted to, provided that my parents don't kick me out of the house, but that's not something I want to do. At this point, I think we're all getting anxious but still maintaining the hope that the employment fairy will swoop down and sprinkle the magic dust that will propel us in to the "real world."

Out of all my friends, I think I'm definitely the most impatient, in life and in this whole job hunt adventure. It's not like I was expecting to work at the Star or the Globe but it sucks when you apply for 20 random "proof-reader" jobs, something I *think* I can do pretty well, and don't hear back from one person. It got to the point where I started thinking maybe there was something wrong with my e-mail but nope, g-mail is fine and dandy. I've used this analogy before but applying for jobs really feels like I'm throwing a message in a bottle into the sea, hoping that someone somewhere will find it and read it but chances are that you'll never see that bottle again.



I know my problem is that I'm not patient enough and I get discouraged easily. I can bounce back from disappointment but right now, it's just one of those times when you're feeling a tiny bit defeated. I decided to move back to Hong Kong a few weeks ago after realizing that there are a lot of journalism related job opportunities for new graduates back home but is that just my way of picking up and running away because I don't think I have what it takes to "make it" here? I'm excited to move back but I'm currently questioning my motives. At times I'm 100% sure about it and I think I'm doing it for the right reasons but then I start to doubt myself and think maybe I should stick it out for a bit in Toronto and see where things go. Am I running away because I'm scared or am I really chasing my dream? (Wow I sound like Carrie Bradshaw, somebody slap me.)

For now the decision remains that I'll move to Hong Kong and either way, I'll MAKE it the right decision, whatever right means. I have to suck it up and quit acting like a 22 year old baby. In the meantime, I give each of my friends a big hug and an encouraging pat on the back. We're all in this together and when all else fails, there's always MacDonalds ;) Gooooooo arts degrees!!

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Monday, July 23, 2007

Soundtrack to my life

You know how certain songs just have the power to bring you back to a very specific memory or time in your life that you probably would've forgotten otherwise? When I started thinking about this, I realized that most of the songs I could come up with were all "sad" songs...which I guess isn't that surprising because I've had my share of "oh my God, i'm so dramatic and my life is over" moments but I wanted to come up with a couple of songs that bring back some fun memories, because there really should be a balance. However, I take it as a good sign that I can listen to all of these songs now without feeling the least bit emo.

So here are five songs that I associate with some of my dark days (in no particular order):

1) U2 - With or without you
I think this one is a pretty common one. The first time I heard it was on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, when Ross requested it on the radio station as an apology to Rachel. I guess it doesn't need much explanation. It's the typical post-relationship depression song. Good stuff.
2) Tegan & Sara - Where does the good go
Something about these girls that makes me so emo and this song is the emo-est I've heard from them. First heard on Grey's Anatomy I think and it became the number one played song after St*ve. The super duper emo chorus:

Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive
Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go
Look me in the eye and promise no love's like our love
Look me in the heart and unbreak broken, it won't happen
They even look emo:



3) Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply
Now when I think of this song, I actually laugh because I think of what I was sad about during this time: R*y and Ow*n (I told you it was funny). I remember sitting in my room, listening to this song on repeat and crying my little eyes out. That still happens occasionally but this memory is just hilarious. Oh the angst. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Vera Tong for sticking by me through that very obsessive time during high school.

4) Alanis Morissette - You Oughta Know


Oh Dave Coulier, you sure know how to piss a woman off. My brother was the one to buy the Jagged Little Pill CD, back when Alanis was all the rage. Such a great CD and the best song to scream to. This is as screamo as I get (except maybe The Used). Screaming to this turns the sadness into rage...which can be good.

5) Nsync - I drive myself crazy
How could this list be complete without a super cheesy boyband song? I still love this song and I associate this with pretty much every guy I had a crush on in high school. The gist of it can be summed up in this one line: I drive myself crazy, thinking 'bout you. Seriously, imagine what kind of grades I could've gotten if I wasn't so boy crazy. I really would've been Harvard bound but instead I went to the "Harvard of the North" (I think Simon is the only one who still says that).

6) John Mayer - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
I said I would list 5 songs but this one isn't exactly a sad one for me. When I first heard it last September, it brought tears to my eyes but John Mayer has always been the one person I listen to that "uplifts" me. I've played this song about 215 times, according to my Itunes and I still haven't gotten sick of it. This song puts me at ease. I love John.

And now, to some songs that bring a big smile to my face and make me want to shake my yellow booty:

1) Mariah Carey - Fantasy





Hands down, my favourite Mariah song. I got this album, on cassette tape, when I was 11 and I remember listening to it over and over and channelling my inner Mariah (yes she exists believe it or not). It's great to hear this one at clubs except I'm not a fan of the remix. I miss the pre-Glitter/meltdown/clothes-wearing Mariah.





2) John Mayer - No Such Thing
No surprise. I heard it for the first time in January of 2002 and have loved him ever since. This song is particularly fitting right now as we all enter the "real world" but as Johnny says: There's no such thing as the real world, just a lie we've got to rise above. I guess it's time for us to test that out and hope that he's right.



3) Green Day - When I come around
This one I heard at church camp! I remember buying Dookie and TLC's CrazySexyCool at the same time after one of my camp counsellors introduced me to pop music of 1994. Very inappropriate for a 9 year old but it sounded good at the time, and still does. Church camp was awesome.

4) Backstreet Boys - As long as you love me, Missing you, I want it that way



I was and still am such a teenybopper at heart. These songs bring back memories of singing (trying to harmonize) with V, watching the vcd/videos over and over and most recently, cruising in Simon's car around campus and scaring the white guy on the bike (Boy Band Bandits HOLLAAA).

5) Random songs at clubs like: Sean Paul & Beyonce - Baby Boy, T.I. - Bring 'em out, Montell Jordan - This is how we do it, Beenie Man - King of the Dancehall, Tony Matterhorn - Dutty Wine
These songs will probably always make me want to dance, except for Baby Boy, which is when I take a timeout to watch Dee dance and as for Dutty Wine, we'll learn how to do it one day, Mo.
There are so many other songs that bring back memories but these are the only ones I could think of. Care to share the songs of your past/and present?

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Feeling disconnected

A few weeks ago, I started hanging out with my "little" cousin. We went out for dinner and chatted and talked about everything that girls typically talk about when they get together. Before that dinner, I can't remember the last conversation we had. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever had a real conversation with her. After our second dinner date, I told her how happy I was that we were hanging out and she said "yeah! I never knew you were so good to talk to." And how could she have known? For the longest time, we never talked. I didn't see her much but whenever we did, it was the very cordial "Hi, how are you" kind of small talk. I'm still like that with most of my cousins on my dad's side and why, you ask? Well, first, I'm shy and second, they speak Cantonese and I speak English.

My extensive written Chinese vocabulary:




Ever since our family moved to Canada when I was five, I think I've been the official "gwai mui" of the family. After an intensive and exhausting year of junior kindergarten in Hong Kong at age four, I came to Canada. To make room for the English language, my Chinese vocabulary seemed to very quickly flee from my brain (...like it was Ashlee Simpson desperately running from the limelight after her lip sync/hoedown debaucle. Who doesn't love a good Ashlee Simpson reference?) When I was younger, it didn't make a difference. I spoke English with all my friends at school, at church and also with my family.

At age 9, I went back to Hong Kong with my family for a visit. At the time, I thought my Chinese sounded just fine and then someone kindly pointed out that I had a really funny accent. It was a sad day. In my head, I actually thought I sounded like a local Hong Kong person and boy was I wrong.
I think I partly use the language thing as a scapegoat and a lot of it is due to my lack of initiative when it comes to conversing with my extended family but it seems to have created a barrier and I want to break it down. It makes me sad that I couldn't have real conversations with my grandparents and didn't make the effort to get to know them because I knew I couldn't have a full conversation in Chinese. Now I wonder what kind of relationships I'm missing out on with my cousins because I'm too afraid to speak my supposed mother tongue.

As I search for jobs in Hong Kong, the regret keeps gnawing at me: WHY DID I QUIT CHINESE SCHOOL? And then I remember the stuffy rooms, the long Friday nights, the kids that came straight from Hong Kong who were eons ahead of me, the weekly dictations and the guaranteed 5/100 that I would get on those dreaded tests. Brutal. So Chinese school didn't work out, but I'm determined to make a real effort when I move back to Hong Kong. My Chinese won't just used when ordering "cha siu fan," but I will be able to speak intelligently with people about the government's Green Paper, or events that are more current in Hong Kong, as well as chill with the cousins that I've long been avoiding.
Just give me a year...or two.

Monday, July 9, 2007

My brief moment of glory (click to enlarge and enjoy!)

Taken from the Queen's Journal - Vol. 134, Issue 7



When I grow up, I want to be thin.

Below: Me - Hawt, Margaret Cho - Hawt, Hyori Lee - Hawt, Muffin - Hawtest








I've had this discussion with a few friends of mine about this issue and coincidentally (or not) none of us are 100 pounds. I have nothing against thin girls, well maybe sometimes out of jealousy, but what I have a problem with is the expectation that Asian girls everywhere should be thin and when I say thin, I mean size 0 thin. I think most women living in any sort of "Westernized" culture feels the pressure to be thin but when (white) girls complain about feeling pressured to look a certain way by Hollywood and the media, I think to myself, try having an Asian mom. (This post is also not about hating on Asian moms because I have nothing but love for Asian moms, mine is pretty awesome.) What I mean is, speaking from experience, to most Asian parents who were born and raised in Asia, being thin is not even a question, it is just something that is.

I can't speak for girls who were born and raised only in Asia (namely Hong Kong) but as for me and most of my friends, having grown up both in Hong Kong and North America, I've learned that those expectations reach far and wide and there is no ocean big enough in this world to curb them.

It was during that horribly awkward "oh my God what is happening to my body" preteen age of 12 that I moved back to Hong Kong from Toronto and started feeling painfully self-conscious of my body. Looking back, throughout my teen years I would have probably been categorized as thin by Western standards but from that age on, I could never ignore the jiggle in my thighs/arms/tummy. At family dinners, I felt and still feel like the black - or rather, fat sheep of the family (ha ha).

*By the way, as I write this, I am stuffing my face with a giant banana chocolate-chip muffin. Hmmm...maybe THAT's my problem.

When I was 17, I distinctly remember one family dinner when we were taking photos and when my mom looked through them on her digital camera, she very loudly proclaimed to my entire paternal family, "Wah, my daughter is so fat!" Low blow, huh? I think at the time, I was about 115 pounds (I wonder what she thinks NOW). I know it is a very Chinese thing to comment on someone's weight/appearance whenever you see a person but it just feels a thousand times worse when you're a teenage girl...and when someone uses the f-word.

When I got to university, I started putting on weight and after four years, I got a Bachelors degree in English Literature with a side of 20 pounds of body fat. In addition to keeping me a little warmer during those crazy Kingston winters, I started to hate my body. I would look around me and stare at those tiny Asian girls with beautiful long hair, tan skin and small perfect bodies. I also started to notice little comments that I would hear from guys, about how they prefer "smaller girls"- what I heard was "I prefer girls smaller than you." What's most annoying is that by Asian standards, I'm fat but by Canadian standards, I'm "normal" so why do I AWLAYS feel the need to lose weight? Why do I want to be a size 2? Why do I roll my eyes when a pack of skinny Asian girls walk by me at a club?

I clearly have issues with my body like most women but combine that with seemingly impossible standards of "beauty" and you have a potentially self-destructive double whammy. I don't know how and if these standards will ever change but like my post below on activism, the change has to start with me and all those other girls (Asian or not) who think they need to be tall and thin to be beautiful. When I move back to Hong Kong in a few months, I'm going to be surrounded by skinny girls and I'm going to see countless ads for weight loss clinics and miracle fat dissolving drugs and I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel like a huge blob but I'm working on that. All I want is to be healthy and feel comfortable in my skin and thankfully, going to the gym (and shaking my money maker at dance class) has been helping a lot. I might never be the skinny one in the family but at least I can change my thought processes so that whenever I look at family photos, I won't just see a girl with flabby arms or pudgy stomach but a hawt, confident Chinese girl who can out-dance, out-run and out-smart you. How's that for a happy, up-lifting, the world is alright kind of post? Okay, I'm done. Time to get back to my muffin.





Saturday, July 7, 2007

YAY - Welcome Reader #2


This is for my dear Laura, the Gold Lion I wish I could be...

...or actually, multiply it by 50. A girl's gotta eat.

Friday, July 6, 2007

Welcome, my first and only reader!



HI MO!!! This...is for you! I love how he kind of looks like one of those romance novel heroes. Muahah. I mean...MUAH!


Thursday, July 5, 2007

What is an activist?

For a long time, ever since high school actually, I've cared about issues of race and racism. I remember really getting intersted in it after a six week summer course at UCLA, which eventually became my dream school (that dream has yet to be fulfilled). After class, I would hang out at the bookstore, look at the selection of sweatshirts and sweatpants and end up slowly going through each letter of the fiction section. One day, I found myself in the "Asian-American studies" section. Books on Asian-Americans written BY Asian-Americans! I became one with that little bookshelf, disappearing into my own little world. I can picture it now, my 17 year old brain running a mile a minute as I flipped the pages, learning so many new things at once. With the turn of each page, the boundaries of my mind extended until all that was left was a mind ready to molded and to soak up all that was available. I had the freedom to read, to write and to explore my own identity as a Chinese Canadian youth.

I told my friends about the injustices of the rail roads, of men being forced into running laundromats, of Vincent Chin. Just like me, they were surprised, angry even. When I got to university, I put all of those issues on the backburner but they were always on my mind. Having lived in Hong Kong for six years and moving to Kingston, Ontario, I experienced culture shock. Even though I had spent the "early years" in Toronto, living in a dorm at Queen's was different. I remember once saying that I needed sunglasses because I was blinded by the sea of whites. I did not fit in with my floor and made few efforts to join in on their "movie-making" or board gaming nights.

In second year, I met Laura (an inspiration to all Gold Lions and Gold Lion wannabes). She became my go-to when I wanted to talk all things to do with race and racism. We discussed Asian-American history, what it was like being a minority at Queen's and so many other things. We learned from each other, or at least I learned from her. What we agreed most on was how few Asian "activists" there were on campus. By activist, I mean Asian students (or even professors) who were aware, or conscious, as we called it. We came to see most Asian students as Queen's as complacent Asians, blind to any form of racism or opression in their lives. We bitched and moaned and became haters of our own kind. Where Laura and I differed was how she started to become involved...and I didn't.

For the last two years, I've seen her devote herself passionately to so many different causes, running from meeting to meeting and planning countless events. She continues to do all this to this day, while I sit on my ass and write. Honestly, that is all I've done. I worked for the school paper, in hopes of bringing some attention to issues of ethnicity but alas, I was a mere minion in the cog that was the Journal. That sounds kind of bad. What I mean to say is that at the end of the day, stories were assigned and story ideas were shot down. You can pitch as many stories as you want (or not) but there is always someone higher up and usually smarter about these things, to tell you what will be a good story. A good story usually means something that is relevant and interesting to readers. I think the problem at the Journal had nothing to do with a lack of openmindedness but a concern for whether it was something students wanted to read about. I tried, but probably not hard enough.

I came to know the bunch of girls that Laura worked with; they were intelligent, strong and opinionated. They treated each other like sisters, fighting, yelling, laughing and bonding. For some reason, I never felt like I fit in and never felt the need to either. I agreed with many of the things they said but always felt like an outsider. Now when I look back, I think it was my shyness that got the best of me but at the same time, I also didn't want to delve as deeply as they did. I cared, but not enough. I tried to help, but never tried hard enough. I had opinions but wasn't opinionated enough. I finally admitted to myself that I was not an activist like they all seemed to be.

I am mostly talk and little action but I am also trying to change that. As an observer more than a participant, I want to become active and fight for the things I believe in rather than just bitching about it with friends but I've also seen what becoming an activist can do to a person. I have nothing but love for what those girls do at Queen's, but to me, I see a clique. It has become completely "us against them." It might feel that way at times and it might actually be the case but that kind of mentality can be hurtful and alienating. Those who aren't working with them or don't believe in the exact same things that they do must, of course, be working against them. What is hard to remember or understand sometimes is that we're all at different points on our "journey" to enlightenment. Some are more aware than others, some come from different backgrounds that might make it easier or more difficult to understand and simply put, people think differently.

I am definitely not faultless when it comes to this. I constantly need to remind myself that it is not an us versus them battle and I need patience. I need patience to talk to people who think so differently than I do that talking to them makes me want to grab their shoulders and shake them hard and yell "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I have yet to do that but the thought has crossed my mind many a time.

Wow, I actually don't know what my point is anymore but the ladies of En Vogue said it best: Free your mind and the rest will follow... Before you read me, you gotta learn how to see me. Activist or not, there is no point if you forget that at one point, we were also completely ignorant and racism (and internalized racism) was and probably still is, deeply rooted in all of us. It's hard to try and understand where someone is coming from but so what if it's hard? I say we should all try, and in my case, try harder.