I never really knew what it felt like to fit in, to blend in to society, until I came to live here in Taiwan. For once in my life, I look pretty much like everyone else around me. No one stops to stare at me or give me dirty looks as I walk down the street. No one tells me to go back to “my country”. No one tries to make me feel as if I am not worthy of standing on the land where I was born. I finally feel free.
There are no words for how grateful I am that my own children will not know the kind of ignorance and hatred directed towards them as I did growing up in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood in New York. The pain of my childhood and youth reemerged after a long hiatus when I recently viewed a youtube video of a white college student on a racist rant against the Asians in her school. With that video on my mind, I was disturbed to hear Joshua saying disparaging things about an Aboriginal classmate and making generalizations about all Aboriginal people. I realized when I tried to explain why it was not okay to stereotype, that my children really have no idea what it means to be a part of a minority group in society.
Here in Taiwan, they are the majority. If anything, they are the privileged ones. Full Taiwanese blood with an American mother and an ability to speak English, a most coveted ability. They are not made fun of and disparaged- if anything they are stared at with awe and admired. Yes, this is a good thing, but is it too much of a good thing? Will they, without an understanding of what it feels like to be marginalized and discriminated against, become part of the oppressors in society?
I never wanted them to even be exposed to the ugliness that is racism- it hurts me to the core to even recall it for myself, but I feel like I will need to tell them about my past and about my experiences with racism so that they do not escape being oppressed only to become the oppressors.
So it was with a very heavy heart that I began to recount to my children the way I was made to feel like an outsider and made fun of as a child because of my ethnicity, how other people sterotyped me as being a karate-kicking, fried -rice (flied lice) eating, chopstick-using, non-English speaking heathen.
I could see my stories making an impression on their little minds. How much of an impression still remains to be seen. While it’s a conversation that will beed to be ongoing and necessary, I am not looking forward to it and I hope I will be able to find the right balance between honesty and bitterness and help my children to become culturally aware, socially conscious, global citizens.
This post was really touching, Joanne. Thanks for sharing.