in comparison to other places i’ve lived, one of the most noticeable differences in being in public spaces in chicago is the fact that sometimes i’m the only asian in sight. this has resulted in a whole variety of new experiences. like being randomly asked by an scholarly Black 爷爷 on the subway to read a meticulously drawn chinese character, or being snagged by a white guy at a bar because his friend recently went to japan for a business trip. i’d probably have a different response to these interactions if i had grown up exposed to more blatant racism, or if i were less inherently amused by random interactions with strangers. but as someone who has almost never been the only asian in a room, and who so happens to be able to read chinese & answer superficial questions about japanese history, i usually find it an entertaining way to meet people.
i could refuse to entertain this pair of Black men joining me on this park bench to enjoy the view of the lake in the summer, glimmering all the way to its meeting with the sky.
“i hope i don’t offend,” the younger one says, his maleness and self-perceived americanness and my young womanness and perceived foreignness cobbled together into a platform of parity upon which to meet. to bolster the curiosity that might otherwise falter under their insecurity about educational background or social status.
and so i amiably sing him a song of my people. i become who he wants me to be so i can tell him what i want him to know. in this way i leave myself to meet them where they are, much as they have left their selves to meet me, a smart young chinese lady who sure would be in trouble if he were a few decades younger, he assures me.
hog maw 