I saw the ABC sitcom first, Fresh Off the Boat — I was interested because it was about a Chinese family on prime time TV, on a major studio network. I liked the show, but I also felt that it really went into the white stereotypes of Asians, especially Chinese, catering to a white audience. It’s like going to a Chinese “restaurant” — unless you’re in a legit Chinese community, whatever restaurant you’re going to is probably going to give you a fortune cookie with your bill… because it’s been “Americanized” to cater to the bland taste buds of white people.
However, the TV comedy series is actually based on the memoir of the main character, Eddie Huang. I knew about his memoir, because in the opening credits of the series, it always tells the viewers that it’s based on his memoir. That’s actually my favorite literary genre, memoirs, I just love them, and I’ve read quite a few too… too many to list off the top of my head spontaneously.
Anyway, Huang’s memoir is a National Bestseller, and I figured it must be good if ABC created a whole series based on it — especially because there is not much of a demand or acknowledgement for Asians in the entertainment industry. Well, I finally decided to read the book by borrowing it at my local public library.
I enjoyed it a lot, and I related to it in so many ways, especially when he wrote about how it felt being a child of Chinese immigrants, the racist bullying he received in school because he was the only Asian… all of those feelings and experiences are so relatable for me. They had originally lived in DC, which is a very metropolis and cultural city, considering it’s the country’s capital and all, so there were large Asian communities, especially for the Chinese — but then they moved down to Orlando, Florida. I definitely understand that trauma of going from a community, where even if you were still a minority, at least there were others of your own people so you didn’t feel signal out or “different” — to going to the racist, white-ass south in a state like Florida.
There was one part in his memoir, were he wrote that he wanted to be white so bad, and that the other kids in Chinese school always talked about wanting to be white and how much better it was if they were — that really resonated with me. Like, when white people say there’s no such thing as “white privilege”, they don’t understand that being white IS the privilege… but you can’t explain that to ignorant people who don’t know what it’s like to have your own country label you as something else.
A lot of white people won’t think that they’re racist, but they are. Like, I remembered when my oldest son was born and his father said something like: He kind of looks like the both of us, except he doesn’t really have your “chinky” eyes. He obviously didn’t think it was racist to say that, but it most definitely was… and that’s the thing, because Hispanics and blacks will make a big deal about racism, so most people would not say something like “nigger” or “spic” in casual conversation, when they’re not intentionally trying to be racist — however, even though they know those are racist terms, the same people don’t think they’re racist if they say “slant eyes” or any other derogatory terms about Asians because Asians just basically accepts it, and they try to conform to the “model-minority” stereotypes that Asians get.
I remembered one incident, where his family had ordered Chinese takeout for New Year’s, and my son’s grandfather had said to me (while I was sitting right next to the old racist) — Confucius says, smelly fingers in the morning means itchy ass at night. Like, why the flak would this old, racist (an immigrant himself) even say that shit to me, sitting next to him; when it was his ignorant ass who was the one who ordered Chinese takeout for New Year’s!? What was shocking to me was that he even said such a thing, with me sitting right next to him too! Racist asshole that he is. (It was actually one of the things I read from old journals of mine… thank God I only ever interacted with that old senile racist like twice) — my poor son, it must be so difficult for him in that household, and I really hope he doesn’t have some sort of shame for his cultural identity. I talk to him about racism a lot though, and I think he’s aware of the fact that some people are just ignorant assholes because they don’t know any better.
Like, that whole incident was about 15 years old, but to this day, it bothered me that I didn’t say anything. I should have. His coward-ass son, who was sitting next to me, didn’t make a peep either — that was one of the first real signs of this guy’s two sons being punks (they were never taught to be real men; I could go on about his other son too, how he flak up his whole family and basically made them homeless over eBay baseball cards, but then tried to make his ex-wife seem like she was “crazy” for reacting by throwing an egg at his car) — shit, you just made your family homeless, but you wanna cry about getting an egg on the car!? (See, true signs of a punk.) When minorities gather together, whether you’re black, Asian, Jewish, whatever — we always talk about the ignorant white people who don’t think they’re racist assholes because they’ll say things like: “My best friend in HS was this kid named Pablo”; or “I dated a black guy once”… (you know the kind I’m talking about).
That’s my whole point though, Huang’s memoir really talks a lot about that. A subject that other Asian authors tend to avoid, even authors that I love like Amy Tan — she goes way too much into the stereotypes that people have about Asians, but never really addresses the racism that Asians have to endure. He talks about how even though he’s an American, he never felt like America was his country, because he grew up in a country of ching-chong jokes and being called a chink, but he’s supposed to think that America is so great — that’s some yes, white master bullshit right there! The memoir is great. It’s great for Asians who want to read something that they can relate to, and it’s also great for non-Asians to see the perspective of an Asian kid growing up in a place like Florida. The memoir also has great humor in it too. It’s very well written, without the often cringy stereotypes that the sitcom tries to inject for comedic efforts at the expense of Chinese-Americans.
The part that he wrote about always getting stomachaches because he didn’t know what to do at home or how to react, that really related to me so much. Children who experience trauma like racism or any forms of abuse will often get psychosomatic symptoms, especially involving the digestive system, like frequent stomach pains and bowel disorders. I’m constantly getting intestinal pains and bowel problems… I probably should see a gastroenterologist. My friend’s husband died at 38 years old from colon cancer because he kept putting off problems with his digestive system like frequent stomach pains. It’s crazy because he was a healthy, active Marine — I mean, I don’t know, maybe he was exposed to carcinogens in the Marines from deployments and trainings, who knows? (I digress!)
That was one of the things that Huang wrote about, and that I’ve always felt was true — that you’re always considered “Asian-American”, with the hyphen. This country never sees you as American. You’re either just Asian or you’re an “Asian-American”, or you’re whatever ethnicity from whatever Asian country your family is originally from — but you’re never considered to just be an “American”; not the same way white immigrants are.
“I’d never subscribed to America. I never felt included in this country. To this day, someone tells me to go back to China at least three times a year and I live in downtown New York.” — Eddie Huang, Fresh Off the Boat: A Memoir
NYC Gal Out ♡ 
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