Definition

There are a surprising number of things

that I “can’t be”.

For example,

I was told that I couldn’t be

a singer,

a fashionista,

or a writer.

Because I was Asian.

That was the only explanation I received;

there was no constructive criticism

or comment on what I was actually doing.

“Asians can’t sing.”

“Asians don’t have good fashion sense.”

“Asians barely even know

how to speak English.

What makes you think

you can write well in it?”

Real comments.

No one ever told me

I couldn’t be a doctor

or a lawyer

no matter how bad my grades were.

Well,

of course they wouldn’t.

I’m Asian.

That’s the definition of Asian,

right?

Somewhere,

God has his finger in a dictionary

pointing at the definition of “Asian”

and I guess the vast majority of the world

can see those words clearly

while I can’t.

Because I wasn’t aware that

Beijing opera wasn’t music,

or that Asian people

only wear frayed

secondhand

years-old clothing,

or that--

and this is my favorite

--an Asian isn’t able to

muster sentences more coherent than

wing wong ching chow lee,

let alone describe the way

the moon floods a dusty room

and casts a silver veneer

over the lonely mattress in the corner.

Or the shattering of your breath

when words slam into you

harder than a battering ram could.

Or the red-hot blush that creeps

across your neck and face

after every effort you make

is torn down

and invalidated

under the friendly guise of

warning you it’s a fruitless venture

before

it’s

too

late.

And then there are those people

who tell you in no uncertain terms

that you are

too tall for an Asian

or not smart enough.

They will call you a chink

and tell you that you must be submissive

as they throw mirror shards at you

and tell you to look at yourself.

Then while you bleed

they’ll tell you that as a future doctor

you need to learn how to heal.

This is the definition of being Asian.

This is the fate of the “model minority”

that is so marginalized

even they themselves no longer try to fight.

The Indian men and women

who are mistaken for terrorists

of a race they are not from.

70,000 Japanese-Americans

who were captured under suspicion

of their heritage.

Vincent Chin,

whose stolen life was worth two years of probation

$3700

and no jail time.

...

When I was twelve,

I auditioned for a solo.

I was told that I had a Chinese voice

and wouldn’t be fit for the part.

My teacher gave it to the girl sitting next to me

who didn’t have the words memorized

or even know the tune.

The reasoning was:

“Her voice is better,

because she’s white.

It’s more like the singer.”

I cried for hours that night

because I wanted that solo too.