A Sad Excuse for an Asian

It is a rare occasion when my parents go out to eat. When they do, it's typically some faux-Asian dim sum place or The Cheesecake Factory (which is good save their obesity-inducing portions, but being Asian, of course we share). So after viewing the lovely cherry blossoms over the weekend, we decided to head over to China Garden for some greasy Chinese grub. For all you wannabe (or be) Asians out there, China Garden is a fan guan, or food hall in loose translation. This means that management attempts to squeeze as much cash out of their clientele by cramming in as many people as physically possible before some white person decides to call the fire department.





This is what it looks like on FDA inspection day




By the time we got there, there was already a 45-minute wait, and being too lazy to go anywhere else, we simply waited. As we sat there, my mom noticed a white guy sitting across from us reading a Chinese newspaper.
Sensing that some bad shit was about to go down, I held my breath and waited.

Mom: "Look, that white guy is reading the Chinese newspaper."
Me: "Yeah. He's pretty talented."
Mom: "How come you can't read the newspaper?"
Me: (looking around nervously for my dad) Well, they never taught us.
Mom: I sent you to Chinese school for 12 years and you can't even read the paper? You are a sad excuse for an Asian.
Me: ...

Yes. It is true. Despite speaking Asian Chinese to my parents everyday, I am less Asian than a white guy. As a child, I was rebellious and read such subversive literature as Curious George Goes to the Zoo (without his master's permission!!!) and Clifford: The Big Red Badass Dog. After a couple pages of Clifford, let me tell you, that pooch was headed straight for the state penitentiary. Forswearing such juvenile propaganda like Sesame Street's A...B...See? (printed for the foolish masses, no doubt), it's no wonder that I turned out the way I did.

[Actually, I did try to read in Chinese. Once I asked my mom about a panel in a Doraemon comic, and she replied: "It says: HA! HA! HA!" Me: "That's not funny at all"].

[I also wonder, do white people comment when they see me reading The Post? "Billy Bob, why cain't you read no paper? Even 'dem orientils can do it"].

So goes the story of my life. I studied the likes of Shakespeare and Milton in college, only to graduate and manage the finances of some poor, ailing corporation who probably knows more about balance sheets than I do. And, in a few short years, this very same individual will be making crucial decisions about your health when you are two breaths away from the Grim Reaper.

Inspires one with confidence, doesn't it? Thank goodness for the American Dream where even a non-Asian Asian girl can succeed in society.