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.
