by Samantha Sy (Batch 2012)
I hate Asians.
That’s right! I loathe the Asians. They are either yellow-icky or black as hell but they are all the same to me. They are puny, disgusting and freaky Asians. I admit; I really am a racist. I really hate interacting with Asians or Blacks. It is already bad enough that Negroes pollute the United States, and now, the Asians, too? Why can’t they live in their own countries in the East anyway?
My name is Vivianna Bell but most people call me Vianne. I am thirteen years old and I live in Manhattan, New York City. I have three other siblings. One is Andrew, I call him Drew, and he is a twenty year old college junior. My elder sister, Jessica, I call her Jessie, is an eighteen year old college freshman. My younger brother, Ryan, I call him Rye, is an eleven year old fourth grader. They all have various thoughts on Asians.
Drew is sort of indifferent about the issue. He doesn’t hate Asians but he likes Caucasian women better. Who can blame him? We Whites are obviously far more superior to any other race. Nothing could spark more excitement in a man when he sees a voluptuous blonde with shimmering blue eyes. I am proud to say that I am a Brunette with aquamarine eyes. I have fair skin and a flawless complexion. I am 5’8 in height and I love absolutely anything Western. My two other siblings, unfortunately, are fond of Asians. They think that Asian cultures and traditions are oh-so interesting even if they suck. They think that their features are unique and exotic. Well, I think that they are just plain and boring.
They would invite their weird Asian friends into our house. Oh, how I hate it! They would bring their peculiar atmosphere everywhere. Anyway, I’ll just talk about myself first. I’m such a narcissist. All I know is that I am part German, Italian, French and English. Though, I am not quite sure about the percentages of my heritage, I know that I’m proudly Caucasian. I would be so disgusted to have any other blood run through my body. My parents claim that I have a rotten attitude and I shouldn’t look down at Asians. But I just can’t help it. I am so particular of it. I would ask people their race and if they would say that they are part Asian, I would ask them to trace their ancestry and find out just how much ‘Asian’ they have. Even someone who is 10% Asian repels me. I’m kind of obsessive-compulsive that way.
One morning, I went to school and hanged out with my buddies Daphne, Erika, and Maggie. I am devastated to find out that we will be having three new transfer students who were all Asian. It’s just my luck, huh? The three of them entered the classroom as the teacher told them to introduce themselves one by one. I observed them. There were two girls and one boy.
The first girl spoke. She had dark complexion, huge eyes with long eyelashes, a petite face, a short stature, and long black hair. She introduced herself as Eliza Malaya, she was also thirteen years old and she came from the Philippines. Next, the boy one year older than me came into my line of sight. He was a bespectacled tall guy with stylish black hair and fair skin. He had really small eyes with attractive dimples. I had to admit, for an Asian, he was really good looking guy. The only thing which was a total turn-off was his race. His name was Yamamoto Akira, obviously Japanese. I really couldn’t deny the fact that he was indeed so handsome, however, I shrugged at the thought that he was Asian. I managed to convince myself that I was too good for him. Finally, the last of them greeted us. She was quite tall, too. She had long wavy black hair, huge deep-set eyes, dark complexion, a high-bridged nose, and a curvaceous physique. She was Naseeba Ramchand, an Indian. She acted really cheerful and friendly.
The three of them all sat near me and that was practically the worse day at school. They kept bombarding me with praises and curious questions while they stared at me with such interest. They were really annoying. Even if I told them many nasty things, they would still befriend me and smile at me. Were they stupid? Can’t they get the fact that I don’t like them at all? Akira was especially sweet, but what stopped me from liking him was his race. My annoyance grew everyday as I endured seeing those three in class.
Few months later, my parents told me that we have relatives coming over our house for the weekend. I have never met those relatives before so I was quite excited. Mom said that they were from dad’s side. She acted a bit worried but I couldn’t decipher the reason behind it. She had to make me promise that I would be nice to them no matter what the circumstance. Naturally, not knowing what to expect, I nodded. I was thrilled to meet them for the very first time.
When they got to our house, I was surprised. They indeed looked like me but there was something odd about them. Then, we had a family gathering. We all started chatting and exchanged stories. We got to know each other more. In the middle of the conversation, I soon found out something. I was shocked. I was so surprised that I almost fell off my seat. They were half-Chinese! But, how can that be? How can I, a pure White, possibly be blood related to Asians? Oh, and it wasn’t because someone in the dad’s side married a Chinese. Dad himself had Chinese blood!
What a revelation. I hated my parents at that very moment for not telling me a vital piece of my identity. Lots of things entered my mind as I allowed the profuse tears to fall from my face. I quickly ran upstairs and hid inside the room. I must have caused such a misunderstanding back there in the living room. My relatives probably hate me now for hating them. I buried my head under my soft pillow and cried like there was no tomorrow. Why didn’t I know? Why was I deprived from the truth? Tears fell faster now.
My parents soon calmed me down and talked to me. “What… What am I?” I asked in between sniffs. “You’re actually 1/8 Chinese.” My dad confessed. At the moment he said that to me, I felt as though a sharp knife was stabbing my chest right there and then. I really had Chinese blood. I was out of control. After all, I always have bad temper. “I thought you were German and Italian? How the heck did you become Chinese? You don’t look Chinese, dad!” I screamed at him. “I am.” My dad said in a hurt tone. “My dad is Italian while my mom is German-Chinese.” At that time, I couldn’t say a word. I was dumbfounded. All these years… I hated my own race.
My three other siblings found out the truth, too. But, they didn’t feel any sadness or remorse. They were even quite happy about it, most especially Jessie and Rye. Drew was just being indifferent again. I think, among all my siblings, no one took the truth harder than I did. I was really the one who broke down and nearly lost all sanity.
I just cried the whole night long when I discovered the bitter truth. After that incident, the news spread like wildfire. I couldn’t stop Jessie and Rye from telling everyone at school, either. They loved Asians after all. They were even obsessed with those Korean boy bands and Asian media.
Everyone in school literally hated me. It was like they all wanted me to burn at the stake. From that day on, every single day of my life in school was worse than hell itself. It was because I have a reputation for being ‘the racist’. And here I am now, a part Asian. I was so ashamed of myself and I really regretted everything from the start. If only I could bring back time and correct my mistakes. My pure White classmates who liked Asians and knew that I was a former racist constantly teased and bullied me at school. They all made life harder for me. Even my best friends Erika, Daphne and Maggie won’t talk to me any longer. And what about those other Asian classmates of mine who I used to scream hurting words at? Well, they were simply making my life miserable. I couldn’t even defend myself because I know that I was the one at fault. My parents and siblings consoled me and told me that this was just a stage in life. One day, I will be forgiven. I never forgot to pray. One day, people will forgive me…
For now, I was still in a difficult situation. I could only hope that forgiveness would come sooner. But amidst all the sadness and pain, who do you think stood up for me and went with me every step of the way? Who defended me from the bullies who tried to hurt me? Who do you think cared for a sore loser like me? Make a wild guess.
It was Akira.
Those things happened last year, during my 6th grade. Now, Akira and I are both 7th graders, and guess what? We’re going steady. No one could make me happier.
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