Leah Kim explores her experiences of white privilege, and the ways we need to recognise and dismantle it.
By Leah Kim
Much to my surprise, I met and instantly fell in love with my now husband. The reason for my surprise being that he’s White. Although I have never in my life dated or even been remotely interested in a Korean man (perhaps residual rebellion from my chopsticks-rejecting days), most of my boyfriends had been at least part Asian. But the heart wants what it wants, and I was soon living with my Englishman in London.
It didn’t take long for me to realise that there weren’t many East Asian (or the commonly used racist term: Oriental) people around. London is known for its diversity, yes, but, I couldn’t see any people that looked like me. It is only in hindsight that I understand that this bothered me. At dinners with my husband’s family and friends, nearly all of whom are White, I would lean over and whisper to him, “I’m the only yellow person here, haha!” It was as if I was attempting to preemptively poke fun at myself before anyone else could point out that I was different. Every now and then I would take it one step further and say something more outrageous to my husband, such as, “I’m the only Chinky Gook here!” I didn’t say these things in a calculated way. They just came out and I laughed while my husband was offended and probably thought I was ridiculous.
I smiled through conversations with people who “absolutely love Korean food!” by which they exclusively meant Korean BBQ, which is not representative of Korean food.
I thought, “We’ve known this for centuries!” when I saw various Asian foods becoming trendy for their health benefits: kimchi, nato, matcha, turmeric, miso, seaweed. It felt equal parts validating and violating. Validating because, well, we told you so. Violating because, well, cultural appropriation.
I inadvertently irritated my father-in-law-to-be by always calling him “Giles’ Dad” and my mum-in-law-to-be “Giles’ Mum.” Why couldn’t I just call them by their first names? I found it physically impossible to do so because it would be deeply disrespectful to do this in Korean culture. In Korean culture, it is customary to use the moniker, “so and so’s parent.”
All this deep identification with being Korean and yet, consistently throughout my life, I have heard myself say, “I’m not very Korean.” I would cite not being able to handle spicy food, not liking Korean men, not speaking the language perfectly, and not ever having lived in Korea as evidence of this claim. I envied my White-washed Asian friends whose parents exclusively spoke to them, and their golden retriever, in English.
When Giles and I were registering our intent to marry in the UK, we had to have an interview in which we would answer questions about each other to prove that we were in a true relationship and not just trying to get myself a visa. Although I was a US citizen and held a US passport, it bothered me that the government official would likely see me as an Asian, not an American. “They’re probably going to think I’m an Asian mail order bride,” I joked. My soon-to-be-husband was not amused.
“If I am insecure about my Asian features, I need to work on self-acceptance.
If I am rejecting my Korean culture, I need to look at why.”
At the interview, we were each asked the very straightforward question: What is your partner’s citizenship?
I (correctly) answered: British.
He (incorrectly) answered: Korean.
My eyes widened and I whipped my head around to glare at him.
He continued: Oh! I mean, SOUTH Korean.
My jaw dropped.
“American! I mean American!”
It is funny in hindsight and I get a real kick out of sharing this story. These interview type situations have the effect of making you feel like you’ve done something wrong so I know that my husband was just feeling pressure. But for me, it was a manifestation of a point I’ve been trying to make my entire life: I AM AMERICAN.
To whom, exactly, am I trying to make this point?
From a spiritual perspective, I know that the most important viewpoint is that of my own, that I must validate myself. If I am insecure about my Asian features, I need to work on self-acceptance. If I am rejecting my Korean culture, I need to look at why.
But from the larger perspective of being an Asian-American with immigrant parents, living in a racist system that has only ever made partial space for People of Colour, this is not all on me to work through internally. This is on a society that celebrates and elevates one racial group over all the others, that segregates and discriminates against others based on skin colour. This is on fashion brands that have incompletely represented the American people in its marketing campaigns. This is on families that did not take the time to teach their children that it’s not okay to make fun of or exclude people for looking different, sounding different, eating different. This is on Hollywood, who waited 25 years after its first-ever primarily Asian cast in the Joy Luck Club to blow everyone’s mind with Crazy Rich Asians, and who, in the interim only cast Asian actors to play token cliches.
This is on White restaurateurs (like the owner of Lucky Lee’s I spoke about in a recent article) that open Chinese restaurants and claim to do it cleaner and better than Chinese people. As well, it is on those who completely miss the point of our outrage over this matter.
Do you really think this is about MSG, oil, and salt?
Do you think we are dumb enough to buy your story that “Lee’s” purely came from your husband’s name? Have you never met an Asian person in your life? You really had no idea what a common Asian name Lee is? You had time to learn that bamboo, jade, and chopsticks were part of Chinese culture and use this to your marketing advantage, yet, it never crossed your mind to sense check your overall concept with a Chinese person? Did you go to China? Or at least to an actual Chinese person’s home?
“Racism exists in many forms and so long as it exists in any form against any group, we must all continue to speak up and to fight for equity and justice.”
It is deeply frustrating that the restauranteur’s response was one of (mock) shock. But you know what — I actually believe her. I believe her because she has blinders on. One side of the blinders reads the letters W H I T E; the other side reads P R I V I L E G E.
Until she does the work to investigate her own blindspots — simply being a White person who has not had to be aware of racism — she’s not going to understand why it was reprehensible of her to generalise Chinese cuisine as icky and causing bloat.
The thing is, this restauranteur is just the poster child of this moment of bigotry. She’s an easy target because her missteps are so obvious to everyone outside the bubble of White Privilege. She is also a social media “influencer” who is selling the “wellness” lifestyle through “clean” eating. *GAG* But the problem runs way, way deeper. The Asian-American community has been subjected to a constant hum of quiet racism since well before she or social media were born.
And no, as a group of people, we do not generally walk the streets of our cities fearing for our lives. There are benefits afforded to us as the perceived Model Minority. But racism exists in many forms and so long as it exists in any form against any group, we must all continue to speak up and to fight for equity and justice
We are, after all, one human race.
LE
AH KIM
Leah writes about mental health, motherhood, and being human. As a pregnant, full-time mom, spare time is challenging to come by, but she loves creating a cozy home, growing flowers and veggies in her garden, and baking bread from scratch.
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