The social pressure to be the same is what pushes me. People like things they can predict. They like nice orderly groups that they can look back to for a quick profile of someone they've never met.
Asians: smart, polite, evil parents.
So I get my butt into Advanced Math, into every spelling bee, qualify for every GeoBee, and win creative writing competitions. It's a lot of work, yes, and the sad fact is that I don't do it to Challenge my mind, or to have better opportunities. I don't do it to prove people wrong. I do it to prove them right. I wrangle my sarcastic sense of humor into submission because it comes off as being impolite. Every time I swallow back a witty remark it whimpers, but for the most part, I ignore it. The one thing I refuse to do is belittle my loving, supportive parents. It is a subatomic protest that no one will ever notice, but it soothes the dark, mysterious corner of my mind that questions whether all of this is really right at it's heart.
"Accept me!" I scream silently. For the most part, people listen.
YOU ARE READING
the A.B.C.s of it all
Short Storya collection of short stories, some of them my own experiences, and some of them conglomerates of many peoples of experiences, about what it's like to be ABC (American Born Chinese) or otherwise Asian in America. (whether it is my experience or a co...
