I’m not exactly sure to what this is, but it was sitting on the black and white printer at my work. At first, I lol’d because being an equal opportunist when it comes to finding amusement in racial stereotypes, I found amusement in this crude adaptation of a chink.
But then it dawned on me that this was sitting on the printer, and that a user in the office had sent it to the printer, meaning someone in the office found some humor in this kind of tasteless art. The thing is that there aren’t a whole lot of people in my office, and only one other actual Asian person, whom I’m pretty certain they don’t have access to this printer, since they’re on the other side of the office. But the thing is, although I find it amusing, I realize that the wrong person at the wrong time seeing this would trigger all sorts of shitstorm involving racism and other negative connotations.
The other day, I got a PowerPoint file, that I was tasked to “clean up.” Since I’m one of the few people left on the planet apparently, who knows how to correctly use PowerPoint, and its archaic method of style sheets and templates, I get this kind of request a lot.
Apparently, whomever had worked on this PowerPoint before it was turned over to me, also had no idea what they were doing. Margins completely inconsistent and text boxes and objects shifting all over the place upon scrolling though the slides. Colors, ever so slightly shifting between slides. And most blatantly, the fact that slides that were title slides in between categories had all their titles written in Lucida Calligraphy.
My boss stated “I don’t know what kind of person did this, but it needs to be fixed.”
I had to hold my tongue at the answer that immediately popped into my head.
I kind of wish the day would come when humanity meets the Turians, then the Salarians and Asari. Because I get the impression that until there’s something so radically different for people to become prejudice towards, like aliens, racism will never go away.
The photographed vanity plate on the Ford Explorer pictured says “BLKNPRD.” Black and Proud. In an ironic way, it’s actually amusing to me that the driver side brake light is also busted, and being held in place with packing tape.
But no matter, this is the kind of vanity tag that exists all over Atlanta, at any given time. I’ve seen plates or bumper stickers that allude to one, being black, and any variety of being successful, rich, debonair, female, or some sort of leader or revolutionary. What I’m curious about is that if we live in such a supposed progressive and tolerant society, why is it so imperative to indicate their ethnicity?
It doesn’t really matter, because we all really know the answer to the question. But the fact is, no other race could really get away with the way the black community does. White people have it the worst; imagine seeing WHYTNPRD on a vanity tag? That car would be on blocks and destroyed for being supremacist within 24 hours of putting the tag on the car. If I put AZNPWR on a car, I’d be labeled a racist and likely laughed at, well before the car would ultimately be vandalized in discrimination. But BLKs put BLK all over their tags, ironically pointing themselves out, and nobody seems to bat an eye.
Supermarket Offers Black History Month Special on Fried Chicken
Wednesday, February 06, 2002
Associated Press
HARRISBURG, Pa. – Giant Food Stores apologized Wednesday after one of its supermarkets advetised a sale on fried chicken in honor of Black History Month.
The chain’s Union Deposit store in Dauphin County had a sign Sunday saying, “In honor of Black History Month, we at Giant are offering a special savings on fried chicken.”
“It did happen. It was at that one store only,” said Denny Hopkins, Giant’s vice president of advertising. “We had a customer bring the sign to us and complain and we immediately took it down.”
“We apologize if that sign offended our customers,” Hopkins said.
Store customer Lance Sellers, 31, of Highspire, said he was shocked and embarrassed when he first saw the sign.
“I showed it to a few of the other customers … all races of people … and they all were stunned. When I approached the store manager about the problem he had the nerve to ask me why it offended me so much.”
Hopkins said the sign was not meant to be offensive. He said he did not know who made the decision to put up the sign.
Paula Diane Harris, president of the Greater Harrisburg Branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, said the sign reinforces racist stereotypes.
“Not all African-Americans eat fried chicken, greens and chitlins. We like salad, roast beef, low-fat chicken, just like everybody else,” she said.
Giant is sponsoring several programs for Black History Month, including having jazz bands and soul food samples at its Kline Village Plaza and Union Deposit stores, Hopkins said.
Sellers said the sign, which he still has, wouldn’t keep him from shopping at the store.
“We laugh about it,” he said. “How could they put something like that out there?”
Don’t get me wrong, seeing Jeremy Lin tearing up the NBA right now is a pretty cool thing going on right now. In spite of all the controversy behind race, upbringing, race, education and race, Jeremy Lin is making a league vastly composed of everyone not Asian, look like his personal playground.
I’ll enjoy the Jeremy Lin highlights as he continues to make them happen, and I’ll laugh mockingly at all the horrible Jeremy Lin puns that are sprouting and spreading like AIDS in Thailand, but I have to excuse myself and be one of those guys, at trying to contain some excitement. Forgive me, for I come from a baseball-first fandom in which nothing is sustainable, everything has an end, numbers rule all, and I’m only allowed to suspend disbelief for those within the Atlanta Braves organization.
That being said, my latest crazy conspiracy theory goes along the lines of this:
Jeremy Lin is being allowed to run amok and dominate the shit out of the NBA, because the NBA needs it.
And people have the audacity to be critical towards me for finding sadistic enjoyment in racist humor. At least I don’t go deliberately trying to spread my jaded perspective of the world onto children in a classroom environment:
The question was a word problem that said, “Each tree had 56 oranges. If eight slaves pick them equally, then how much would each slave pick?”
Now I’ve been assumed to be many different races in my life; Hispanic, French, black (yes, seriously), but this morning was a new one. Chinese or Japanese I can sort of get, but why black people don’t ever assume Korean as one of the first three options is completely beyond me. Stereotypically, Koreans are the ones who do all the grunt work of modern commerce – dry cleaning, manning the liquor stores, convenience stores, gas stations, delis; where they happen to serve black people on a regular basis! Chinese people seemingly solely work at Chinese restaurants or their respective areas’ Chinese regions. Japanese people are fewer and further but are a lot like the Chinese, except there are lot more doing pretty high-tech, high-importance stuff, because the rest of the world seems to think the Japanese can do no wrong and blows their culture like its shit don’t stink.
But I’m getting off the point. This morning, on a sunny beautiful Saturday afternoon, there’s a ring at the doorbell. Since I now assume all doorbell rings as a sign of casing the joint, I answer immediately. It’s two pleasant black women who are trying to spread the good word of Jesus Christ. I listen to their spiel for a few minutes, but then respectfully decline their literature, because I’m a soulless human being who doesn’t particularly care for organized religion. But before they leave, they ask me “where I’m from.” Since I know this is a pointless question, I tell them the truth – Virginia.
“Oh, well you look like my son in law. He’s half Laotian.“
So now, I look like a cross between Dikembe Mutombo and Kahn Souphanousinphone. Wonderful.
Secondly, I’m ashamed of these religious zealous. The ninth commandment states thou shalt not lie, but it seems like every single black person I meet who wishes to relate to me seems to have an Asian in-law, or they know an Asian closely, that they feel the need to tell me, as if I’ll suddenly allow them into my home or accept them more for disclosing this tidbit of information, which is as useful to me as an asshole on my elbow. I don’t go around bragging about the black friends I have in my life, why others feel the need to share their stories of the Asians they know is completely beyond me. Fuck that.
