Abomination

It's 3 a.m. I am awake in my bed after reading news about racist accusations running rampant. It reminds me of my history all the people who would call me racist for being mixed race

    I am half Chinese-Indonesian on my mother’s side, she came to the United States to go to college and became a citizen when she married my dad, who is an Irish-American Texas boy. Though I have spent a good part of my life away from Indonesia both of my parents keep me well grounded in both cultures, and before I went to school it seemed perfectly natural to me.

     One day when I was a child I came crying to my teacher, you see; it had been the first day of school, I had made new friends really quickly and we were talking about where our parents came from. Looking back it seems a peculiar topic for a bunch of toddler’s and I can’t help but wondering how we got to it. Regardless of why; things were getting along just fine until I mentioned to them that my father was European, then they fell quiet. You see, they could tell I was Asian by looking at me and had just assumes I was full blooded; but after I told them I was half white they stopped being my friends and began to treat me like I was a stranger. When I demanded an explanation they simply told me they were not sure how to treat me anymore.

     Naturally this upset me, I could not see why something as trivial as my parents coming from different places could affect who I was. All I did know was it did and it made me feel like I was not supposed to exist, like I was unnatural, some kind of abomination.

     My preschool teacher at the time was a big jolly black woman, her hair fell in bouncy little curls all around her face which always sported a pair of thick square spectacles and the most iridescent smile anyone could ever see. I always remember her with a bright yellow shirt underneath a blue jean over-all dress that would jiggle every time she laughed, I loved it when she laughed, because when she laughed she laughed with her whole body and she laughed often, she was like a piece of sunshine: always warm, patient, and nurturing. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw her get mad that is probably why everyone did what she said, no one wanted to see her get mad. She made me feel safe, so I went crying to her. She held me in her arms and sang in her soothing but powerful voice until I was calm enough to talk. After I explained what happened she told me not to let those girls get to me because they were young and ignorant, they would soon grow out of it and in time the world would be a place where no one would mind what race I was, they would see all people as equals just like on Sesame Street.

     You can imagine I took great refuge in watching Sesame Street for a long time after that, longer than I am willing to admit for sure. However, her words made me feel much better and soon after that, this other children in my class got over their timidness towards me, just like she said they would and I continued with my life, keeping her promise in mind.

     It never happened, to the contrary it seemed like the more time passed the more preoccupied people became with my race. Not just my classmates but my teacher as well were always asking and prodding me about it:

     “Where is your family from?” they would ask

“Oh, so which culture do you identify more with?” they would ask after I answered followed by:

“Does your Asian family approve of the union?”,

“Do you talk to your family over sea’s?”,

“Are you half white? Because your dad looks European”,

“Tell us more about your Asian culture”. On and on with questions like these in that fashion. Most of them just stuck an Asian label on me and ignored my European heritage, to them it was impossible for someone to be more than one culture. Those who did not assume kept prodding for more wayward leaning questions. Everyone I encountered seemed lost and confused without a label and a bubble to group me in with, and that made me feel lost and confused too. I know some people think it would be great to live your whole life without a label, and it is, but to a teenage girl it is confusing to not feel like you belong somewhere. The Asian children did not want to be friends with me for fear I would taint their purity, and American children treated me like a novelty. I felt very lost and confused when the children treated me like I was different and when the teachers did it to it just made me just plain angry. I wanted to shake everyone down and scream “what’s wrong with me? Why am I so different?” I tried everything to appear normal and blend in, I tried to renounce my culture and pretend I was like everyone else, but it did not work, everywhere I went people would ask me about it.

     At first I was upset with people for asking me about it, I would snap at them for having the gals to ask me about my heritage. Then I would remember my pre-school teacher and how she had taught to that learning was the fastest way to abolish ignorance. So, I began to answer the questions and the more excited they would be about learning about my cultures the prouder I became to have them. Eventually I began taking friends to family outings for both sides of my family: from B-B-Q’s and fireworks on the fourth of July to Chinese B-B-Q and Lion dancing during Chinese new year. I figured if they spent time with my family experiencing our two cultures they would see how naturally two cultures can become one.

     Always when I am showing friends around or even just when I am out with my family, I see some people give us dirty looks:

“How dare you bring outsiders!” they seemed to scream at us “Disrespectful! Do not taint our culture by allowing someone from outside to experience it, you should not be here!” It always reminded me of the looks my classmates would give me, in many more words the same name, abomination. I try not to let it bother me, I hold my head high and remember my teacher’s promise:

“Cultures can coexist and intermingle in harmony, we just have to wait for the rest of the world to see that too.”

     It has been nearly 13 years since I last saw her, and her promise seems to grow less likely to happen within my lifetime. Though I am nearly 20 years old, I still fight the same demons that come from coming from a two cultured home. I still fight the name abomination. As the world becomes more connected people become more protective of their heritage, continually drawing lines between cultures and driving a wedge further between them.

“Every culture separate!” they seem to say “if we let in any outsiders they will wreck our heritage and we will lose our identities, or they will miss understand and use it disrespectfully. Everyone is defined by their only culture!”

     As my family grows and diversifies we welcome in more cultures and customs to our celebrations, but it seems the rest of the world seems to be hell bent on driving the wedge deeper and separating us further.

Well where does that leave me and my family?

Can one truly be immersed in more than one culture at a time?

Or am I disgracing one or the other?

Maybe I am just an abomination

Author's Note

I started writing this thing at 3a.m. guys I busted out three drafts on paper and pencil then typed it, I am sure there are a million grammar and spelling errors, so please cut me some slack this once and pay attention to the content, it's a story that needs to be heard