It started when I was in kindergarten, and I was so proud I did not have to go to Bingo class, unlike my friends, because I could speak good English –
although I had no idea what a yellow dog that could spell had anything to do with Chinese.
(I figure out now that it was probably called Bilingual class)
I am lucky. I speak the fluent, accentless English of newscasters, the dialect spoken by the children of immigrants, that we learned not from our parents but rather from watching Sesame Street and other things on tv.
Last year, a white facebook friend of mine posted, “In order to celebrate Chinese New Year, me talk rike chinese man arr day.”
And then told me that she was “sorry I was offended” and “she didn’t mean anything by it” when I (nicely, sweetly) told her that that shit was not okay. She said that she saw it the same as doing an accent, like Irish. Or British. Or Italian. (for bonus points, she even said that she has lots of Asian co-workers and friends, and LOVES Asian people, and so is not a racist.)
And when one of my white friends gets drunk, he thinks his “Asian accent” is hilarious.
And I was told by a coworker about the time my Asian coworker mispronounced “Barroway” as “Bwawwoway” and how hilarious it was.
Here’s the thing – can you guess how many Asian people I know who actually say
me rikey
me from _____
me so solly
(or, if you like, the fetishized versions: me so horny, me love you long time)
if you said ZERO, then ding ding ding! Congratulations, you have working brain cells.
No, my misguided fb friend, the “Asian accent” is not an actual imitation of an accent, comparable to your bad British/Irish/Italian – but rather a mockery of Asian people and their supposed inability to speak English. It is the perpetuation of the image of Asian people as perpetual foreigners in America.
Like that time when my family was at an Italian restaurant, and we were speaking to my father in Cantonese, and a drunken white lady said very loudly, “GOD when you come to this country at least learn the language!”
Or when my father was pulled over for speeding, and although he said “what’s the problem, officer?” the first thing the state trooper said was, “Do you speak English?”
Your fake “Asian accents” are not harmless and silly, because at the root of the joke, it says – you, you are stupid. You cannot speak English. You are Other. You do not belong.
my parents have been in this country for 30 years. They have been American citizens for 30 years.
And they are very self-conscious of their imperfect English, afraid that it makes them look ignorant, knowing that it marks them as immigrants. That, after 30 years, you can still be told (in not so many words) that you do not belong.
The Cultural Revolution started in China when my father was 13. He was pulled out of school and, later, sent to work in the fields. (He escaped to Hong Kong when he was 18, but that is another story for another time.)
When my father came to this country, he had a middle school education and did not speak a lick of English. He worked as a busboy at a Chinese restaurant, the evening shift that ran until 3 or 4 in the morning, and went to school during the day.
It took my father ten years to earn his bachelor’s degree. He is now an engineer.
Is this not your “American Dream?”
When my mother came to this country, she spoke very little English. She got a job as an entry level clerk. Over the years she earned one promotion after another. She is now management at a large federal agency, and manages funds for the whole state.
Is this not your “American Dream?”
And my father didn’t understand why his coworkers said, “flied lice, flied lice!” to him over and over and laughed.
And my father is still afraid to speak in a professional setting, even when he has ideas.
And my mother still checks and double checks her professional e-mails with me, for fear of mockery from the same people she manages.
And people don’t understand why I can’t take a harmless joke. Why I don’t think that shit is funny.
No, I don’t “rikey.”
No, I won’t “love you long time.”
And no, I’m not sorry.
So, please, kindly – FUCK OFF.
Reblogging this for, like, the fiftieth time because it has never stopped being relevant to my life and it always, always breaks my heart.
It’s not funny. It’s not okay. It’s not harmless. It’s alienating and hurtful.
Category: Tumblr crossposts
Crossposts from tumblr (for posterity)
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On Asian “accents”
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It’s not quite rising right… But we’re getting closer :) on Flickr.
It’s not quite rising right… But we’re getting closer :)
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Poem by a jewish trans woman written in 1322
Some trans history for trans day of visibility! Here is a poem written in 1322 by a jewish trans woman! (source and alternate translation). In case you were in need of the knowledge that yes, trans people have been around for a long, long time. [this is an english translation from hebrew]
“What an awful fate for my mother
that she bore a son.
What a loss of all benefit! …
Cursed be the one who announced to my father:
“It’s a boy! …Woe to him who has male sons.
Upon them a heavy yoke has been placed, restrictions and constraints.
Some in private, some in public,
some to avoid the mere appearance of violation,
and some entering the most secret of places.Strong statutes and awesome commandments,
six hundred and thirteen.
Who is the man who can do all that is written,
so that he might be spared?… Oh, but had the artisan who made me
created me instead—a fair woman.
Today I would be wise and insightful.
We would weave, my friends and I,
and in the moonlight spin our yarn,
and tell our stories to one another,
from dusk till midnight.
We’d tell of the events of our day, silly things,
matters of no consequence.
But also I would grow very wise from the spinning,
and I would say, “Happy is she who knows how to work with combed flax and weave it into fine white linen.”And at times, in the way of women,
I would lie down on the kitchen floor,
between the ovens, turn the coals, and taste the different dishes.
On holidays I would put on my best jewelry.
I would beat on the drum
and my clapping hands would ring.And when I was ready and the time was right,
an excellent youth would be my fortune.
He would love me, place me on a pedestal,
dress me in jewels of gold,
earrings, bracelets, necklaces.
And on the appointed day,
in the season of joy when brides are wed,
for seven days would the boy increase my delight and gladness.Were I hungry, he would feed me well-kneaded bread.
Were I thirsty, he would quench me with light and dark wine.
He would not chastise nor harshly treat me,
and my [sexual] pleasure he would not diminishEvery Sabbath, and each new moon,
his head he would rest upon my breast.
The three husbandly duties he would fulfill,
rations, raiment, and regular intimacy.
And three wifely duties would I also fulfill,
[watching for menstrual] blood, [Sabbath candle] lights, and bread…Father in heaven, who did miracles for our ancestors with fire and water,
You changed the fire of Chaldees so it would not burn hot,
You changed Dina in the womb of her mother to a girl,
You changed the staff to a snake before a million eyes,
You changed [Moses’] hand to [leprous] white
and the sea to dry land.
In the desert you turned rock to water,
hard flint to a fountain.Who would then turn me from a man to woman?
Were I only to have merited this, being so graced by your goodness…What shall I say? Why cry or be bitter?
If my Father in heaven has decreed upon me
and has maimed me with an immutable deformity,
then I do not wish to remove it.
And the sorrow of the impossible
is a human pain that nothing will cure
and for which no comfort can be found.
So, I will bear and suffer
until I die and wither in the ground.
And since I have learned from the tradition
that we bless both the good and the bitter,
I will bless in a voice, hushed and weak,
Blessed are you, O Lord,
who has not made me a woman. -
Watch The Founder of Girls Who Code Perfectly School Trevor Noah On Why Culture Makes Or Breaks Women In Tech
On The Daily Show with Trevor Noah guest Reshma Saujani, an Indian-American lawyer and politician, discussed the initiative to encourage young women and girls to pursue studies and careers the booming tech field, where they are falling behind. But there are two moments in a girl’s life where we can reverse the trend.
Gifs: The Daily Show/cc.com
Purely in historical terms, coding used to be seen as repetitive, unskilled labour, like typing (look at any pictures of “computers” or “coders” from the 1950s and you’ll see a room that looks exactly like a typing pool) What happened is that coding became seen as a technical skill, which meant it became higher paid, which meant it couldn’t be for women.
This is important, because it reverses what we assume is the direction of the narrative. The PERCEPTION of coding had to change first before the job itself could change. Coding was always difficult, technically skilled and demanding work, but until it was seen as such, it remained “women’s work”. We see the same with roles today that are seen as “feminine” – nursing, for example, is incredibly challenging skilled work, but as soon as it is seen as such it becomes specialised care, which then becomes professional and masculine (and higher paid).
You can’t fix this by focusing on young girls. When someone is constantly moving the goalposts, you have to stop those fuckers first.
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This 17-Year-Old Shared A Perfect Example Of How Hard It Is To Be A Woman On The Internet
Cat said that the person wasn’t someone she knew, but someone who randomly started following her.
“I saw the message and couldn’t help but thinking of how it seemed impossible as a young girl on the internet to share anything without running the risk of having someone message you inappropriate things,” she said.
She added: “I was amused that a photo I had considered to be innocent with no kind of sexual connotations still managed to garner unwarranted comments. I [was] also annoyed because it seemed that as a young women on the internet, you really can’t escape casual sexual harassment.”
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I’m TAing an intro to proofs and set theory class, and the instructor just sent this kids’ book about infinity out to the class. It’s pure MS Paint Lovecraftian nighmare fuel: https://www.math.brown.edu/~res/farm.pdf
what the absolute fuck
holy shit
*opens mouth*
*closest mouth*
*frowns*
I feel like this is answers to questions I never wanted to ask.
I don’t want to go to the infinite farm. I’m scared of the infinite farm.
I thought “pure MS Paint Lovecraftian nightmare fuel” was an exaggeration but if anything it’s understatement
whel’p, I am officially insane
Though everyone read ‘The Infinite Farm’ in elementary school.
I mean, my version was a coloring book, but still. It’s a classic.
O_O
I’m staring into the abyss and I love it
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you could curse a police officer out, kick their car, throw a temper tantrum and throw trash. and that still doesnt mean they get to kill you. what the fuck is wrong with yall? why do you think police get some special license to kill when they get disrespected?
if they cant do their job without murdering unarmed people, they dont deserve their badge, or anyones respect.
