Inappropriate

I was at Shoe Pavilion this afternoon standing on the escalator and listening to my iPod, not paying attention to anything that was going on around me when I noticed a diminutive security guard gesturing wildly in my general direction. I took my headphones off so I could see what he wanted.

“What are you mixed with?”

“My mom’s from Taiwan, my dad is white.” I gave a wan smile and put my headphones back in. He forged ahead. “I was going to guess that. I was going to say Taiwan.” He gave me a thumb’s up. I put my headphones back and walked out.

When did this become an appropriate question to ask? I find it rude, invasive and somehow inappropriate. I understand that the question is borne out of innocent curiosity but I still find it to be a weird one to be asked. There’s no reason for me to have to constantly identify myself to strangers and there is absolutely no reason for strangers to invade my bubble and ask me these things. I try not to make a big deal out of it because I don’t find it to be a big deal. California is hugely diverse, full of different races, genders, social identities, whatever. Great. Awesome. I didnt’ come here to seek out my half-Asian brethren and commiserate. I’m just living here. I’m trying to find a job. I’m trying to live my life. I don’t need or want to be thinking about these things and not because I’m trying to run away from myself. I’ve already dealt with this during my freshman year of college via a series of potentially embarassing ruminations on what it’s like to be bi-racial. This is no longer my trip. Please stop trying to make it as such.

ALERT: Please follow the jump for the addendum to my race relations day.

I was at the Bitter End, holding down a table for Trivia Night as I have done for the past month. As I was standing at the bar, waiting for the nice barkeep to get me a beer, the guy sitting next to me asked if I was from New Zealand. I said no, and continued along with my business. I assumed that this man was probably assuming that I was Maori. I have been called Eskimo, Filipina, Mexican, Samoan, Tahitian, Polynesian and whatever other ethnicity you could assign an ambiguous looking big-boned lass with dark skin and kinda slanty eyes. I’m done being your Asian for all seasons. Stop asking me. I’ve had enough. I don’t give a fuck if you have a burning desire to figure out what my ethnic makeup is. I’m done trying to tell you kids.