Hello Kitty

Growing up, I never really dealt that much with Racism. People knew I was Asian, but they didn’t mention it that much, and they didn’t use a lot of stereotypes around me. Probably because I wasn’t raised as an Asian.

When I moved to Spain, all of a sudden, I was treated very differently. People came up to me on the metro and started speaking to me in an Asian language, and I would have no idea what they were saying. I earned the name “Chinita” among a lot of my friends because that’s how I looked to them. Like a little Chinese girl.

I think the most bizarre situation though, started a few months after I moved to Spain. I walked to school every day, and halfway there was a newspaper stand. The guy who worked there was very friendly and would wave to me, and often make odd and suggestive comments. After a few weeks, when obviously I wasn’t responding to his advances, he started yelling at me every time he passed.

“Hello Kitty! Hello Kitty!”

After our multiple interactions with one another, I knew that he didn’t speak English, but I think he’d figured out that I did. Except it didn’t feel like an English thing, it felt like him trying to get my attention by calling out the only thing he knew from Japanese culture.

I started taking a different route to school soon after that.

Racism in Nursing

On Monday, I mentioned how I wanted to talk about Jodi Picoult's Small Great Things this week.

When I first started the book, I honestly thought it was from the 50's. The white supremist family felt off to me, because I don't deal with it on a regular basis. Ruth seemed to take offense with everything, and acted like people treated her differently because of her race.

The more I thought about it though, the more I realize that it still happens. I don't deal with the same kind of racism, just because I'm Asian, not black. Even so, I do deal with prejudice from my patients constantly. Not just my patients, but from my workplaces as well.

I honestly can't count the number of times that someone has said something that I've blown off. I heard them, and I always assumed that they didn't mean any harm by it. I've had patients call me the 'Little Chinese girl' and 'that Asian one,' and I even had one sweet patient call me his 'Little Indian' every single night. For me, it almost felt like a distinction. I am Asian, I'm not going to deny it. If they don't remember my name, then it's an easy way to describe me.

Then there's the ones who aren't quite so nice. I've been screamed out of a patient's room and as I left, her closing comment was "Get out of here... Yoko!" Which for me, didn't hold quite the same impact. I wasn't alive during the Beatles' time, and I have no idea if people actually hated Yoko Ono, or if it was the only Asian my patient knew. I've been called a Jap before, which, again, because I was exposed to very little racism growing up (I think in large part due to my parents), it doesn't sting the way I know it should.

I had one patient who was very sweet to me, but when I returned to work the next day, I was given all the same patients back -- except for her. Her family had stated that no Asians could take care of her. It wasn't put in the chart, I don't think, but it felt a little strange to me. She'd let me take care of her the night before, and I felt I had done a good job. Her family took me aside and told me that I didn't need to feel bad, because for some reason, seeing me gave the patient flashbacks to WWII.

Here's the thing. I never feel guilty. If someone has an issue with my race, or the way I look, I'm not going to apologize. I'm not going to assume that it's my fault. It's such an odd way to look at things, to think that the person who's receiving the prejudice might feel guilty.

Along with the obvious signs, there's also some odd things that have happened with some of the management that I've worked for. I remember very clearly arriving to work one night when a patient had been admitted. No one had started the admission, and they decided to give the patient to me. The reason? He didn't speak English. Which is fine. I speak Spanish, but it turned out the patient didn't speak Spanish, he spoke a very rare dialect from a South Asian country. He couldn't mime because he was blind, and it was assumed that I would have an easier time doing his admission.

Why?

Obviously because we're both Asian.

I'll admit, I joke about it a lot. I don't get offended. I tried, about a year ago, and it was exhausting. To assume that everyone has an ulterior motive, or to assume that everything that someone says is a jab at my race or said to be rude. My husband and I enjoy being different, and we accept that we are. I believe that's why, when I started Small Great Things, I was confused. I didn't see racism because I didn't focus on it, even though it's all around me.

I'm sure there's a fine line. I do need to recognize when it's inappropriate, but in the workplace, a lot of times, there's nothing I can say or do to change it. My patients... well, they still need care. In a day or two, I'll probably never see them again. Besides, I need them to like me, just so that I can get good reviews and avoid the situation that played out in small Great Things.

Asian Representation

I'm one of those people who has been watching the diversity movement closely. Mostly because I'm curious about how this is going to turn out. I see comments made, usually innocently, and the immediate backlash. Sometimes I see decisions made that just blow me away. Those of you who followed the #MakeMulanRight know what I'm talking about. Here's the thing, I don't know if that was just a rumor started by someone who wanted to see everyone get up in arms, but there's a reason why that was a big deal.

Mulan is one of the only Disney Princesses of Asian descent. Depending on how you classify Asian, you might also consider Jasmine in that category. She had a unique story, and she fought on her own. She was the one who defended her family's honor, and she was the one who ultimately saved China. For anyone to think that her story needs to be 'fixed' by adding a white hero to rescue or save Mulan is more than insulting. But there's another reason why it's so important to make this story about Asians.

Asians are very underrepresented in media in general. You might see one, to represent the group, and that's it. The prime example that comes to mind for me is Harry Potter. There's so many amazing characters in that series, but how many Asians can you count? I know that it's a school that's predominantly white because they're all in England, but at the same time, there's Asians in England. There's Asians everywhere, and don't think there aren't. When I lived in Spain, almost all of the museums had three languages: Spanish, English and Japanese. When we made the music video for our writing group, everyone was so excited that I could be Cho Chang. And I was fine with being Cho Chang. Because she was an Asian who was actually represented in the Harry Potter universe. But that was my only option. If I were an Asian male, I wouldn't even have a character to play.

Ravenclaw Selfie!

I honestly can't wait for the live action of Mulan, and I'm fervently hoping that they do the movie justice. Not just the movie, but the characters. We don't need white actors to portray Asians. Let's go out and find some Asians. I know they're out there somewhere. I bet they'd do a pretty good job of playing Asians.

Asians Look Young

Growing up, everyone always thought I looked young. And cute. No matter how much I tried to look and act older, everyone saw me as a little girl. I got my first job when I was a senior in high school, and I was eighteen-years-old. One of my first days, I had a patient ask me why I was working and if she needed to call the police. Apparently, she thought that my employers were breaking some of the child labor laws by having me serve food. It probably didn't help that the aprons issued to me were too big and I had to wrap them around my waist twice to get them to stay on.

Me at 18

My first job as a nurse, most of the patients and the staff didn't think I was old enough to have a degree. In fact, I earned the nickname of 'the kid' quite early on in my career.

Recently, I've had this happen less and less. My ever-loving and honest husband told me the other day that I can no longer pass for a teenager. Which, considering I'm close to thirty, is probably a good thing. But that doesn't mean that I don't still have those patients who ask how old I am, just to make sure that I'm old enough to have a degree.

I recently was on the other side of the situation, when my friend and I were passing out flyers for our writers conference. We stopped by a Chinese restaurant in town and asked the girls working there if we could hang up the fliers. They were both very cute, and as we were leaving, I happened to mention to my friend that neither of them looked old enough to be working there.

All of a sudden, I understood all of the comments that I'd received over my life, the ones commenting on how young I look. I know that in the long run, I'll be grateful that I look young, but for now, there are days when I'd rather look old enough I don't get carded when I need to buy superglue.

I’m Not Asian

Have you ever heard of the phrase impostor syndrome? The one where you feel like you’re faking something and people would be upset with you if they knew the truth? It’s common, especially when someone starts a new career. When I first became a nurse, I felt like I didn’t know anything, and that people would get upset with me if they realized how little I knew.

Sometimes I feel that way about being Asian too. I look the part, there’s no denying it. I’m petite, with dark hair and dark eyes.

But there’s so many things that I can’t rely on genes for. So many things that makes me feel like I’m not as Asian as people think. Yes, I play the piano, and I skipped a grade or two of math. Yes, I took advanced classes in high school, and speak two languages. But none of that has to do with being Asian. It has to do with my parents and how they raised me. Many of my cousins, ones who are definitely not Asian have accomplished the same feat.

Then I look at the things I can’t do. I’m absolutely useless with chopped sticks. My second language isn’t Japanese, it’s Spanish. I can’t code, and my Bolivian husband is the one who deals with electronics.

Except are those Asian things? Or just stereotypes? It’s hard to know.

I recently had a conversation with someone over twitter, one that really got me thinking. She said that when people ask her, she says that she’s Asian and makes them ask why she doesn’t consider herself an American. I’m the opposite. I tell them I’m an American, and most of them ask why not Asian.

But then there are days when I feel more Asian than American. It’s nice that there’s the option for both. I’m an Asian-American.

Being Politically Correct

I’m Asian. You can tell just by looking at me. My hair is black, my eyes are dark, and I’m kind of short.

I’m not denying it, but I’m also saying that I’m not your typical Asian.

Whenever anyone asks me where I’m from, the answer is always Colorado. That’s where I’m from. I lived there my entire life, up until I left for college. Then I get awkward laughs, and they ask where I’m from.

Same question, but they expect a different answer.

If I repeat Colorado, they ask where my parents are from. Or they ask where my family is from.

Honestly, I have no idea how to ask this question in a way that sounds politically correct and not stupid. Asking someone why they don’t look white is always an awkward question, and one that could get you into trouble. I know I’ve skirted around the question too, when talking to someone who has an accent, and I’m trying to place it.

A few months ago, I had a patient ask me a version of the question that made me laugh. When I told her I was from Colorado, she laughed and asked “Where are your great grandparents from?”

Tricky question, considering that technically, the answer is Europe. Sweden, Switzerland, France… everywhere you wouldn’t expect from a little Asian girl. My mom was adopted, which means she didn’t come from her parents, or her grandparents.

Sometimes, I wish that we could just ask the question. What’s your heritage? You look exotic, what’s your ancestry?

But then, we start to sound like dog breeders.

Familial Diversity

A Bolivian, an American and an Asian walk into a sushi bar.

I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not the beginning of a joke. My husband and I tend to turn heads, just because he’s Hispanic and I’m Asian. Once people get to know us, they don’t think twice, but we’re used to the double takes, the surprised looks.

I’m a Japanese American through adoption. All of my family is white, on both sides. My cousins and I have had a lot of fun times, asking people why they think we don’t look alike. Apparently having the tall, Nordic look doesn’t quite equal the Asian one. We’re very close to my cousins, especially the ones that live in town. A few months ago, my husband and I took one of my cousins to eat in a Sushi bar, because we’ve fallen in love with the place. The food is seriously to die for.

Our poor waiter didn’t even know what to do. One male, two females, and he didn’t know how we belonged together. We didn’t match, and we obviously didn’t have anything that linked us together, not that he could see.

Except we do. Family isn’t always going to look the same. There’s so many more instances of couples adopting babies of different races and interracial marriages. I think it’s wonderful. I’m the product of an interracial marriage, my mother is Japanese, my dad is white. My husband and I have an interracial marriage, and since we’ve been dealing with infertility, we’ve been hoping to adopt, and we don’t have a preference as to race.

I love having a diverse family, and I love being able to go out with them and confuse everyone that sees us.

Diversity isn’t about excluding any one race or gender. It’s about including and adding to the pot. It’s a beautiful thing.

Asian Enough

About a year ago, I read a book that I really enjoyed. It had all of the elements I loved, including diversity. There was one part that always seemed off though, and it was that the main character (half Japanese, half American) kept getting offended by the smallest things. At least, at things that seemed small to me.

Someone asked if she knew of any good Asian restaurants in town. She got offended, wondering why they would assume something like that. My first thought was, because you’re Asian? Plus, she’d already proved in the beginning of the book that she did know good Asian restaurants. Then she met the parents of her boyfriend, and they commented that her name was unusual. Both she and her boyfriend got offended. Again, my first thought was, but it is unusual. It’s a Japanese name.

It kind of bothered me that this book, one that I really loved, kept showing this person getting offended at every small comment someone made.

Oh how naïve I was back then.

Over the past few months, as I’ve been focusing more on diversity, and paying attention to how people treat me because of my Asian appearance, I’ve noticed that I’ve started acting the same way. I’ve started to get offended by small things that don’t matter, or jumping to conclusions that aren’t even there.

For example, I posed this to Facebook a few weeks ago:

Was that what the family meant? Probably not. In fact, many of my friends pointed out the flaw in my logic.

And that’s the moment I realized I’d fallen in the same trap. By focusing on my differences, I had a hard time realizing that not everyone is focused on that. Not everyone is out there, thinking about the fact that I look Asian. Of course it’s going to be something they notice, but it doesn’t mean that they’re going to be obsessed with it, or even given it a second thought.

Which means I shouldn’t either. I prefer living a life where I assume the best of people, rather than the worst.

Part of a Set

I’m the oldest of four girls, and we’re all Asian. Have you ever heard the phrase that all Asians look alike? By the way, it goes both ways. There are times when I think all white people look the same.

But I’m digressing…

We do look pretty similar. When I was getting my senior pictures taken, I ended up borrowing clothes from my sister and wearing my hair a little bit differently than normal. When my mom excitedly showed me the final, framed copy, I was confused. I asked her why she framed a picture of my sister.

So if I have a hard time telling us apart, I guess it makes sense that other people can’t see a difference either.

The Sisters, ready for a performance

One of my neighbors once told us: “If you were all the same height and width, you’d be twins!”

We’ve joked about that for a long time, mostly because he couldn’t even remember how many of us there were, and also because we wanted to know why he mentioned the widths.

I’m used to being one of a set. Growing up, I was just one of the sisters. No one really bothered to know our names unless they were close friends. People would call my mom and ask if one of us could babysit. No specific girl, really, we’re interchangeable, just as long as it’s one of the sisters.

When I left home and struck out on my own, it was a little disconcerting to be the only Asian. I wasn’t part of the set anymore, I was a unique individual. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

Over time, I changed my appearance, finding my own look. I cut bangs and reverted back to glasses. It took me several years, but I finally feel like Krista Quintana. I’m me, and I’m unique, no longer one of a set.