Bi-racial, PT.1

I remember when I was a kid when I first got the question. I was in Kindergarten. I was over a friends house from my the class playing with him. We were in the backyard when he suddenly asked, "Are you Chinese?" I remember not knowing how to answer. I don't know what I ended up answering but I remember wondering about it for the rest of the day.

I went for a walk with my Mom the next day to the park. On the way back I asked her, "Mom, am I Chinese?" My mother answered with a shrill shocked, almost offended tone.

"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?" I explained about my friend, pointing out that I liked Chinese food as evidence that he might be right, and she shook her head. "No, your not Chinese, your American."

I tried to accept that answer but I had a strange feeling in the back of my head. Somethings different. The rest of my life, up to and including now; coworkers, classmates, teachers, and even complete strangers on the street, have asked me what I am racially. So it wasn't an easy thing for me to ignore.

Even without those questions, I couldn't help but notice the differences. Hanging out with friends and seeing their white skin, then looking at my tan arms, my narrow eyes, versus the round eyes. And eventually the jokes started. Sooner or later my group of friends started spouting Asian jokes and I started to accept them.

(PT. 2 coming soon.)