I really have no idea why men offer me drugs. I was walking home when I ran across Y, this Egyptian guy, and the first thing he said to me was, “Want some weed? Come with me and we can smoke some.”
I politely declined — I may indulge in risky behaviour occasionally, but I’m not stupid — and he treated me to some mint tea at Sahara instead.
While we were there, a girl he knew showed up. This chick went to an English-language school in Hong Kong and is now studying college in New York. I don’t know…I’m still kind of mulling over the whole situation right now so this entry probably won’t be very coherent.
So this chick, E, is one of those girls whose main goal in life is to be an import model and have a thuggish Vietnamese boyfriend with a nice car. I did find it a bit amusing that she spoke mostly ebonics — her accent reminded me a lot of mine, in the sense that you can hear that we grew up in Asia, but there’s an overlay of a Western country in it.
I suppose this is the new version of the upper-middle/upper class accent in Asia — how “Western” you sound — no matter if you have a Cockney or redneck or ghetto accent, as long as it’s distinctly Western — because it means that your parents could afford to send you to an expensive private or international school (not to mention overseas for college) where you could learn to speak English just like gweilos.
To digress briefly, this is one of the reasons I am so enamoured of Singlish and the Singaporean accent. I absolutely adore how the radio DJs in Singapore speak with distinct Singaporean accents. In Manila, it seems like they hire radio DJs based only on how American they sound. Hehe, now I’m going to piss off my DJ friends, too.
Like other people of my social class, I can change my accent to sound more “Asian” — and it really depends on the situation. It’s hard to explain, but using the right accent is really important because you might want to intimidate someone by showing how rich you are just by saying something or, in other situations, you don’t want to offend people.
This reminds me, once, my brother and I met an architect who was raised in Manila but studied at an international school and went to an American university. When she first introduced herself, she used the typical sing-song, neutral Taglish accent that middle class people use.
My brother was surprised and a bit offended because, knowing her background, he immediately knew that she normally spoke in an accent like ours, but by using the neutral accent, it was as if she was assuming that we were from a different (lower) class.
When she heard me and my brother speak, she then immediately switched to a more American accent, and my brother was placated because he knew that she realized our “matching” social class.
On the other hand, speaking English fluently in an American or English accent is a weapon in Asia. Unless they’re really clueless, everyone instinctively realizes this. When you speak fluent English with a Western accent, it usually provokes a reaction from people. You immediately create an impression of wealth (even if it’s not true and you’re just some broke, random ABC) because English-language schools (and overseas education) are more expensive. In some cases, you make people nervous and uncomfortable because you bring up insecurities in them about their status or education. In some cases, you piss people off because you sound like an annoying Asian American.
Whenever Kev has to face some kind of unnecessary and annoying bureaucratic stuff, he always switches to English, and he’s always berating me for not doing it more often since my Cantonese is so miserable.
Although it’s not to say that I don’t do it — I will admit that I will use English in times of stress like if I miss a flight or if I have to absolutely get my way with someone.
When I was younger, I valued my accent because I felt that it was posh and sophisticated. Going to the University of the Philippines put that foolishness to rest.
Anyway, the reason for all this analysis was while talking to E, she blurted out to me, “Where are you from?”
I went on my usual “Well, I grew up in Manila, and then Taiwan…” when she interrupted me and said, “No, f’realz, what are you?”
Me: Er…Chinese.
E: Cuz you kinda look Japanese or mixed with something.
Me: Uh, I see.
E: Nah, that’s mad coo’ cuz it’s better than just looking Chinese, you feel?
At this point, Y jumped in and said, “What? You’re not proud of being Chinese?”
E: I’m proud to be Azn, but, ew, Chinese? Because Chinese are so…not cool, you feel? I don’t like it when people are like, “Yo, you’re a local.” Cuz I’m not like them, you feel?
As fucked up as that seems, I totally understand what she meant. In Manila, there’s a term “beho” which is applied to the Chinese Filipinos who aren’t as assimilated or as Westernized. We would always distinguish ourselves from the behos because we thought they weren’t cool, dressed really lame or lacked the kind of “sophistication” that we equated to being Westernized.
I think that’s what E was getting at.
That brought up a lot of complicated feelings in me because I would like to be a Hong Kong local, but at the same time, I don’t know how much of that desire comes from being an outsider. It’s like white privilege; I can take the part of locals precisely because I’m not a local, and can never be one, and because my social class allows me to have the privilege of choosing a side. In the end, I’m not going to suffer the same discrimination because I’m cocooned by my pale skin and my fluent English. Pretty shitty, isn’t it?
Please don’t think that I’m feeling sorry for myself or whining — diew lo mo, I’m glad that these are my most major problems. I just felt like a rare moment of self-analysis.
You see, when gweilos and Asian Americunts write and complain to me about how much I hurt your tender cheebye feelings — you all don’t get it you fucking stupid molan idiots. My loathing for you is simply a reflection of my loathing for myself.
I understand what it’s like to be you. Except I’m twice as charming and half as annoying and a million times less retarded.
Pursing your lips and making kissing sounds at me is not going to make me throw myself at you. Has that ever fucking worked on anyone at all? Why do so many fucking idiots do that?
