Looking for Asians at July 4th Event | Asian Air True Stories

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Looking for Asians at July 4th Event

re we Asians misunderstood by our fellow countrymen and isolated from the rest of America in a great part because we do this to ourselves? I don’t want to think so, because we are so small in numbers that we can’t afford to be stand-alones and isolated islands amidst the ocean of people around us, but I can’t explain what I see any other way. It was July 4th in the year 2001, and acting like an American still puts me at odds with my fellow (Asian)men.
I was out all day Wednesday with a small bunch of friends at a very crowded city-sponsored Fourth of July event, just soaking up the hot sun and the carnival atmosphere. All around me, there were folks milling about and on blankets—talking and laughing, eating hotdogs, chugging kegs of beer, and listening to three separate R&B, reggae, and rock bands playing in three separate corners of the fairground. Even as I was having a blast gorging on sticks of smoked barbeque meat (couldn’t tell what animal I was chewing on, it all tasted like hickory-flavored barbeque sauce), sipping the warm sudsy beer (at three bucks a small plastic cup, I was going broke just trying to wash down the unidentifiable meat), and burning my face and shoulders a glamorous lobster color (ouch!), I began to notice something. It was really subtle at first, and I was barely aware of my own consciousness, telling me, “Hey chickadee, look! Whadiya see?” But eventually, I could no longer ignore that nagging little voice.

I was all alone! Half of the crowd that showed up was white and the other half consisted of Blacks and Hispanics of varying shades and regions, from South America to South USA. In a bustling cosmopolitan city where Asians dominate the schools, downtown markets and technological industries, we were hidden and nowhere in sight at community functions and human-gathering events. I looked around at the four friends who took the time to come out with me. They were all either white or half-white (my Asian friends had made a bunch of lame excuses to get out of going to the 4th of July fair). In fact, the only Asians I saw there were the stall vendors selling beads and clothes and American flags, and the food vendors, cooking up a storm of Chinese rice plates, Thai shiskebobs, Korean BBQs, and Vietnamese egg rolls! If they didn’t have to work on this day, I think they’d rather be home watching TV. Where were all the gorgeous hunky professional AMs? Where were all the exquisite classy professional AFs? The few—very few—Asian faces I saw in the throng of holiday-sun-worshippers were the young high-school kids hanging out with their non-Asian friends, doing what I was doing, celebrating Uncle Sam’s birthday. There had to be a few hidden somewhere in this crowd.

I finished my meat stick, wiped my greasy lips on my arm, took a last chug of the warm beer left in the cup and got my numbed ass off the damp itchy grass. Immersing myself into the crowd, I began my quest to find my people. I bought a bright blue and green sarong from an Indian (from India, not America) woman and she showed me how to tie it around my waist. I bought a little white hat from a Malaysian man who couldn’t speak so well, but that was ok because I understood “twelve dollars” in his broken English. I bought some temporary tattoos from a Thai man who helped me paste this bad-ass tattoo-looking barbed wire around my neck and left arm, and I bought a bone-shaped personalized dog tag for my puppy from a hippy white guy who tried to get my phone number. Then, I went over to talk to one of the bands that played reggae and the Chinese drummer showed me his drum set (cool! Can’t believe I’m finally a groupie!). I stayed until all the Big Bangs went off and then fought the crowd to get home...

I never did find the Asian families and professional groups out enjoying themselves, but I did find hard-working Asian Americans behind the hot grills and woks, and behind the booths selling tickets and running the rides. No wonder nobody thinks AMs are eligible catches! It’s a wonder they even think AFs are all that desirable, what with the images that non-Asians see. Forget about the media doing this to us—we are doing this to ourselves.

So what do the AAs see when they see me? They see a strange sun-burnt caricature of a modern-day AA, out having fun and spending all that cash, not working hard and saving up for a rainy day, not staying home doing good AF things like housework or practicing the piano, and (heaven help us!) not even acting like a well-mannered AF! I was cavorting about with strangers and laughing at their dirty jokes, drinking beer (I had two cups), smearing smelly animal grease on myself, and destroying my “delicate pale” skin in that hot sun. What the hell was wrong with me!

…but I had such a blast that I can’t wait for the Labor day weekend!!! I think I’ll go to the beach and ogle the surfer dudes (I wonder if there are any AM beach volleyball players or lifeguards out there…hmmm…probably not. (sigh)

MLK
Thursday, July 05, 2001 at 13:44:28 (PDT)

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