Think Outside Your Square
June 15th 2010 21:00
Photo by HarrisonB. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
I have a theory going: as an Australian born Asian person, I seem to get a lot of Asians asking me for directions. My theory stems from years of being forced to associate with racist members of the Chinese community who refused to mix with non-Asians. My theory is that the people in question feel more comfortable approaching an Asian person than a non-Asian for directions. The reason why I find this behaviour so contemptible is that it’s so racist and parochial.
“I don’t get it,” I whined to my colleague. “Apart from the guy who started talking to me in Korean and the old woman who stopped me in the street to tell me something in Mandarin, they all speak to me in English so why can’t they just ask anybody? Why do they have to ask me especially when I’m in a hurry most of the time?”
My colleague – who has Asian relatives – says they are trying to seek a connection: “They see someone who is of the same racial appearance as they are and they think let’s ask her for directions as someone from their own race is more likely to be more helpful.”
“That’s racist then,” I said. “That’s assuming non-Asians aren’t helpful.”
In case you are thinking that this is all a coincidence, I have come across occasions where I am walking down the street surrounded by non-Asian people and I have been literally chased by the Asian person who wants to ask me something. I dodge, they chase. That is how I know this is all to do with my racial appearance.
Take today for instance: I was in a hurry, racing for a train when this Asian woman tried to stop me. I kept going (after all, I was about to miss my train and besides, there were dozens of people – Asian and non-Asian – nearby so she could have picked someone else). But no, she had to talk to me so she pushed her body in front of mine, blocking my path.
“Hello,” she said. “Do you speak Chinese?”
“NO!” I barked at her. Even if I did, there is no such language as Chinese; Chinese people speak Mandarin or Cantonese or both. She should have known that. I then rushed off, muttering under my breath about how backward she was. Her English was almost perfect by the way, so why the f*ck did she need to communicate in Chinese? And who gives her the right to invade my personal space?
I get this a lot. I was once chased around the Kings Cross water fountain by a group of Japanese tourists who desperately wanted to talk to me. Of course, I wouldn’t stop.
As my old man used to say, “When people stop you on the street it’s never for anything good. They are after money, directions or cigarettes. It’s best to ignore them and keep going.” I’m sure Butterscotch would agree.
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