I looked toward the bathroom, willing my friend to come back. Mongolian?”Įxternal expectation demanded that I not only know but love the exoticism attached to my exterior. Not Korean either because your face isn’t…hmm. “Well you’re not Vietnamese or Indonesian or Thai-you’re too big. The group, disapproving, turned abruptly exclusive, and I found myself alone, feeling dreadfully conspicuous.Ī man came up to me. When my friend excused himself to go to the bathroom, I tried to join the conversation-yes, Madonna was amazing, and no, I hadn’t heard the new single-but it became very clear very quickly that I still languished in the land of perfunctory responses. He introduced me to a group of guys, all Asian, and I smiled, chatted, gave perfunctory answers to perfunctory questions. I breathed in deep, took deep swigs of my beer. As we mingled, I felt scrutinized, an obvious newbie, so I stayed close to my friend. Though I’d told him I didn’t care where we went, just that I wanted to drink, I hadn’t expected to be thrust into such a coded environment, one with a clear race and age divide. “And all the admirers are old white guys?” Amy Tan Is Writing Through the Questions.Language Doesn't Define Me as an Asian American.
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