My reflection on racism & identity in Australia (and overseas).
Recently, I had the pleasure to attend a talk on racism and identity in Australia. The Immigration Museum in Victoria has a five years old exhibition that tells the stories of countless individuals who endured racism in Australia and its impact on their identity. It is heart breaking to see racism still prevalent in modern Australia. All you have to do is look at some news headlines, especially in sports. I won’t divulge into that topic in this blog post. Instead I will giving be my reflection of what it was like to be growing up in Australia and be on the receiving end of racism.
- Name calling -
I have been called many names since I was a child. e.g. “ching chong”. I was not deeply offended by it when I was a child. It was only when I was a teenager did I realise connotation it carried. But I doubt the children who shouted it understood it either. It would be presumptuous of me, but children must have been feed racist facts and lingo by their family members. See Inside Man (2013 documentary) directed by Morgan Spurlock on how racism was passed down each generation — a systemic issue. In those days you had to use derogatory terms to defend yourself. Dog eat dog world.
- Identity forming -
As I got older yet still a child in the outer north-west suburbs I would often be found explaining my culture. Why do we use chopsticks? Why do we burn incense? How come we eat dumplings every day? When kids yelled an obscenity at me, I responded back with a rough response. For example, when a kid yelled out “hey, yellow skin, yeah, you”. I strolled up to kid, grabbed the kid’s leg and compared it to my leg. To their shock and disbelief we were both tan. It was the 1980s, heat waves of 40 degrees, and school had forbidden indoor use during recess and lunch. Every summer nearly everyone ended up tan, with the exception of the really pale skin folks.
- Race versus race -
When we moved to a semi-Asian populated suburb. You would think being among your own race would be easy. Wrong! Straight off the bat my name was in English. To many Asian kids I was abnormal. The Greek children at the new school taught me my English has Greek heritage. This brought us closer together and so we had lunch together. Some of the Asian children found it frustrating that they could not slot me into a category, since, I was a mix of two Asian races yet born in Australia. Have I become too multicultural? So much so that I do not belong to any category of Asians? I have often classified myself as Chinese for sheer simplicity when doing the Australian Census, filling out official forms, and surveys. Is that wrong?
The older Asian students in that primary school mandated that I better fit into a category or else they would not be my friends. I rejected their friendship and decided to befriend younger Asian children — who were not that judgmental. The teachers saw how well I got along with younger children and recommended that I join the buddy system. From there on I was paired up to many different children from prep to grade 3 from all racial backgrounds. My most memorable time was hanging out with the Maori children. From them I learnt a great deal about New Zealand, hanging out after school, going to Dimmey’s, and that race means nothing at all in real friendship.
With the new wave of immigrant teenagers from Israel, Somalia, and Saudi Arabia coming into high school we had racial fights in the arcade centres. Interestingly, the girls were more accepting of different race friendships. We formed a table tennis club and a food eating club. Sadly, the girls found Australia to be harsh, and they felt isolated and judged. I was asked to help them feel accepted. I educated them on Aussie slang, snack food, and showed them my math notes. I sneakily attended some ESL classes with them, but only to be told to go back to normal English class. In return, they explained to me the restrictions placed on girls in their culture, cuisine, make up, and language. I was influenced to strengthen my ties as being a Chinese. I changed schools and learned to write in Chinese. Also, I got myself some pen pals from ‘Yes! Magazine’ (Hong Kong publication). However, I still get told that I write Chinese sentences like a white person. Only learned to write in Chinese from a teacher for two years from year 8 to year 10. In my spare time, I would educate myself on the words I want to know and learn how to use them. Of course, I would sound like an English person because it is the only language that I use on a daily basis.
- Cultural perception -
Some men still have this perception that Asian females are timid and easy to manipulate. There was this one mixed race male staff member, who has some Anglo heritage, he asserted himself as important because he has a connection in management. I cannot get into the details or I will get fired. It was a few years ago now, he bluntly told me I do not belong here while I was serving patrons and doing back of house duties. When I approached management about it, they said the person wanted to be my friend and to reject his friendship I must have some sort of hereditary mental illness. Having reported him, he would ring and interrogate me, as to why I ordered this and that from the stack, many times he demanded to know which library requested this item, and the worst act was when he placed sticky tape on the legal deposit folders. But as a professional I sought assistance from an union representative and we were able to stop the bullying. Now from time to time, he would make creepy statements. To deflect his intent the nearest staff member would kindly interrupt and answer back to his remarks.
- Cultural safe work space -
There is no customer charter at the place where I work. Only by-laws, which many patron are also unaware of. When I am explaining fees and policies to male patrons, some of them would ask, “Where are you from?” I answer them, “I was born in Australia”. Yet they persist with, “where are you truly from?” I used to be coy and come back with answers of planet Earth. As the years go by I get blunter, and I would ask, “What does it have to do the transaction?” Sadly, no one has dared to answer it. Some questions go in to unacceptable territory and patrons need to be pulled up for doing the wrong thing.
- Outside of Australia -
Once I had saved up money, I went travelling overseas, and from there I have found some races are better at being curious than most. In Asia, the strangers were more interested to know my nationality than my specific race. In America, the African Americans had fun trying to guess where my accent originated from. Some thought I was British, but I have never been to England until this year. Only one person has ever said South Africa. I had to laugh at that one.
Now that I have long hair and sporting front facing pony tails, people question whether I am an American Native Indian. Oh, bother. See image below.
