From the first moment I stepped off the plane from China, I felt like I belonged. I thought that I was just like everyone else. Even though I didn”t speak a word of English, I communicated with my fourth grade class with hand gestures and stick figure drawings.
Then the remarks about my name started. I didn”t know what to say. Although my cheeks flamed red and my heart flooded with mysterious feelings, I said nothing. I gave a nervous laugh because I didn”t know what else to do. I, who thought of myself as an American, suddenly felt alienated. As time passed, I began to wonder, “had others seen me as different all this time and I just failed to notice?” Maybe I didn”t belong after all.
This is how I first learned about racism. Then I read about Dr. Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights movement. Reading over Dr. King”s “Letter From A Birmingham Jail,” I felt a rush of emotions. My eyes scanned the words “as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can”t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children …” Tears welled up and my heart ached for them, for in my own way, I could relate to their pain.
As I have matured, I have begun to realize that although racism towards Asian Americans is not as overt as it is toward African Americans, it is still there. Subtle. Silent. Haunting. Expectations for us to do well in school be soft, passive, quiet, good kids permeate our lives in school, at work and even at home. Girls especially need to be innocent, sweet and obedient. The worst is having parents who also have those same stereotypical expectations for me. Before gatherings with other families, they”d tell me, “Don”t talk too much. No one likes a girl who talks too much.” Physically, Asian girls are supposed to be thin and willowy. Although I am reasonably thin, my mother is always subtly telling me to go on a diet. She comments on how pretty and skinny her friend”s daughter is and then looks at me, hinting with her eyes.
When I started high school, I think I started to subconsciously rebel against these kinds of expectations. I joined acting and forensics to become outspoken and loud. I started to read more literature and spent less time on math (the subject Asians are “supposed” to excel in). Unknowingly, I was forcing myself to break away from the stereotype of the perfect Asian girl. Perhaps this is the reason I want to go into law, a job for someone fierce and confident, not someone soft and passive.
Recently, I discovered something else. In class one day, a girl was talking about her nail appointment. “All those nails places are full of chinks,” she tossed out. I was in the seat right behind her. Something inside of me snapped. I whirled around and demanded, “What did you say?” The girl was surprised to be confronted. “Nothing,” she stuttered. Not backing down, I retorted, “You should know better than to use that word in front of me. That was the worst possible thing to say.” With that I got up and left the girl in embarrassed silence. I felt a million voices screaming inside. A million words wanted to throw themselves at her. Although the feelings of anger and hurt were still boiling inside me, I had learned how to face racism. I know now that I must learn more about the subject. I must confront prejudiced remarks and expectations. The racism that was once silent for me, now has a voice and I will answer.
Lulu Deng
LSA first-year student
Editors” note: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis Tenn. 33 years ago today. Dr. King died fighting for justice and equality the day of his death, he was supporting a strike by Memphis sanitation workers.