How do you respond to racism as a Christian minority?
SATURDAY, 3AM-- Practicing lines for a character, who's repetition is a rephrasing of "Why? Because I'm Asian?", I sat peacefully in the subway as a drunk man sat down one seat from me. Then, he consciously moved right next to me, popping the new york space bubble I desired.
He asked, "Ohhhh, are we going uptown or downtown?" For some reason, I always jump to help people at subway directions. I suppose it's because I empathize with how confusing New York City can be. If I'm ease dropping on a group of people concluding their directions incorrectly, I feel the urge to speak up. This inebriated man was sitting right next to me.
"Uptown."
"Oh no!" He groaned.
"You can get off at the next stop and turn around," I suggested, somewhat revealing my desire for him to get away as well.
When we got to the next stop, he doesn't move. I asked, "Are you going uptown or downtown?"
It took him a moment, but then he repeated, "Uptown, uptown."
I validated, "Okay, then you're going the right way."
"Are you Chinese?" During the pause where I did not respond he added, "...American?" It was a relief and a nice change to be acknowledged by a stranger that being an American was actually a possibility, which is rarely the case, despite my lack of an accent.
I happily confirmed,"Yes, I am" Chinese-American, I added in my head. I sat quietly trying to beat my previous score on Candy Crush on a level I couldn't quite achieve 3 stars. Personal patterns with men asking about my ethnicity predicted too much attention could lead to prejudice comments or the request of a phone number, but I also didn't want to be rude.
"Can you do me a favor," the white drunk man suggested.
"What's that?" I politely entertained only making eye contact for a second.
"Never... do me a favor," he said self deprecatingly.
"Alright," I laughed.
A lady sat down kitty corner from him and must have bumped her leg with his. He started to yell at her, "You hit my knee!" Not too loud, but certainly offended. "That was very rude! You should apologize!"
The mild manner black woman responded with teeth gritting and a sweet voice, "I apologize."
"Good!" Then he began to bad mouth her. Saying things like, "you people," so she got up and found a seat further down the subway car. "Good! People think they can be so rude!" He was projecting. He thought kindly of me, so I thought I could correct him, teach him, without a whiplash. But then I thought, the moment is over, the woman is saved from him, and does not need saving from anyone else. He is drunk. There's no use talking logic to a drunk man.
He would every so often try to talk to me. "My daughter is on the honor roll."
I'd politely respond. "That's great." ...but I would only half listen, given most of what he said made little sense. I continued trying to get my 3rd star on Candy Crush.
He asked, "Uhhh, which station is this?" The conductor's announcement sometimes lacked annunciation at low volume, so I clarified where we were. Relieved, he said,"Oh, okay." He told me he was getting off the same stop I happened to be, without my saying anything.
Better to know now, then when he followed behind. I was pleased.
"My daughter is smarter than you will ever be." It was nice to hear a dad so proud of his daughter, even if he assumed I was dumber without even knowing me. I gave him the benefit of the doubt that his pride was stronger than his insult.
"Good for her."
"No, good for
you!"
"Why?"
"My daughter could kick your a** harder than you'd ever know!"
I didn't even know how to respond to this... So I didn't, really. "Oh.... kay."
Then he asked, "You're Chinese, right?"
"Yes."
"Wanna hear a joke?"
"Uh..." Oh great, a psedo-racist joke. I've endured a-many told to me, by actually, rather nice older church friends. It's one of those things that I excuse for "they come from a different generation." I correct them and make an obvious face that I don't like the joke and say that I don't approve, but I give them the benefit of the doubt.
"What do you do with a billion Chinese people?" My eyes widen hoping other passengers will see and share with me in this experience of,
Oh no, what is this man going to say? His answer, to be honest, was something I didn't understand. My knowledge of world history is lacking and I think he was trying to make a bad pun.
So I responded, "I... see."
He began to interrogate me about the phrase. "
What do you see? Hm?"
I wanted to snark back,
Not a whole lot since my eyes are so slanted, but my Christian love was saying, let it go. Ignore him. He is drunk. There is no point on schooling him on racism. He is belligerent. A few Hispanic girls were laughing on the side. At one point, they shared my disbelief, but they didn't always make eye contact. They kept it within themselves. And he kept going.
"There's only one thing a Chinese woman is good for." Pause. "And that's taking it up the ass!"
The train stops at our station in Harlem. "Ohh Kay. Thank you, Sir," I say sarcastically as he gets up to leave. The doors open and just before he exits he says, "My name is not 'Sir.' It's 'Takes It Up the Ass.'"
"Well, thank you, 'Takes It Up the Ass!'"
It was 3 in the morning, in Harlem, and a white man had just told me that the only thing a woman like me is good for, is taking it up the ass: I stayed far away. As he went up the escalators, I let many people go ahead of me to create a gap. Talking to him on the subway was one thing. The streets were another. I kept my eye out for him and I walked in a "don't mess with me" fashion. When I do this, it's not an act. I literally will go in that zone. I imagine myself having amazing kung fu moves out of nowhere (It is a regrettably arrogant stereotype that works both in my advantage and my wishful thinking.) I pretend to have superhuman strength and coordination. I start to think about what just happened. I get angrier and angrier having let it slide. I think about what I
should have said.
--Of course, I know the reason why I didn't say those things. I didn't want to put myself in danger. That's what they say. Don't be a hero. Is
this worth putting yourself at risk? He was drunk anyways. But then I kept thinking... he had the nerve to say those horrible things about me and my ethnicity and I didn't give him any sort of crap. It was nothing more than passive aggressive.
This is the part where being Christian is completely conflicting. Letting him say racist comments, because he's drunk, and taking the high road is one thing... and
it's another when my compliance is his expectation of an Asian woman.
When it comes to friends, coworkers, and even acquaintances, I'll say something. But if it comes from a stranger: he doesn't know me. He'll be out of my life in 10 minutes. I will likely never see him again. The "I am above racism" part of me, the rebel in me says, I don't know you. I don't care what you think. I am me. And I am not a stereotype. But then... there's the part that knows: this is the norm. This is expected. These
are the actions of a stereotype.
"I have been taught accommodation."
That is my favorite line in Lily Meyer's slam poem, "Shrinking Women." It's about how men are taught to take on the world, do endless things, and women are taught to accommodate to the men around them, not knowing how to fill the void when the men leave. She addresses her brother.
"I want to say: We come from difference, Jonah. You have been taught to grow out; I have been taught to grow in. You learned from our father how to emit, how to produce, to roll each thought off your tongue with confidence. You used to lose your voice every other week from shouting so much. I learned to absorb."
Being a woman has taught me that people don't expect much from me. They take my thin frame as a reason to take up more room. The Chinese culture has taught me to be considerate, to be a team player, but also, to keep your head down, to make it through, to think about
yourself and your family. I have been taught accommodation ...when the rest of the country has not. That makes me angry.
Christianity is about being loving. It's not about being a pushover. Numerous times in the bible, Jesus was not afraid to rebuke. He was not afraid to stand up for himself or for God.
Then why is it so hard to stand up to someone being racist? Why don't I know what to do?
When I reflect, the most constructive response I could have retorted is, "What you said was racist. You should apologize." I'm tired of people saying prejudice things to me because they think they can. I'm tired of playing nice, because I think that's the only Christian way to respond. I'm tired of the combination adding to the assumption that a person can just walk over Asian people and they will say, "thank you" or "I'm sorry."
I'm constantly amazed at my sister's confidence. Apparently, when a man cat calls her or shouts random Asian lingual phrases to her, she'll take the time and stop and ask them, "What are you thinking? What made you think that was going to work? ...I just want to know your thought process." She kind of shames them into realizing that they're stupid culture influenced game (known to rarely work) is really just stupid. "Uh... honestly, I don't know why I said that. I don't know what I was thinking."
My sister isn't Christian, but would shaming a person (to make them realize their action was shameful) be a Christian way to respond? Normally, when it's something a little more hazy/biased/an "every story has two sides" kind of situation, I find that it could be similar to guilt tripping or manipulation. But when someone is being overtly sexist and racist, how different is shaming a person than rebuking them?
It was about 2:30am, technically Sunday early morning, when I sat down on a bench of exhausted men waiting for the subway train for who knows how long. There was an older, thin-framed Chinese man on my left and, similarly, an older, thin-framed black man on my right. The local train arrived and the Chinese man got up. We smiled at each other as I moved out of the way for him. I opened up my Christian inspired novel, Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller. I was a little annoyed already about something else and as I read the small typed words, my nose started to run again.
