Girl from Malaysia: To be or not to be (Asian)?

As I embrace my newfound freedom and general lack of responsibilities - this is a lie I have tons of work to do, but these are the kind one can put off, if you know what I mean! Anyway, my mind, so overworked during exams trying to understand Piaget’s theory of well, itself essentially, is not quite used to this lack of neural activity, and I find myself reflecting on my second term in York as a foreign student.

One revelation I recently had was that I don’t have many Asian friends in York. This was not always the case. Back home my closest friends were all Asians, and they remain my best friends until today.

York is a different story. The Asian students rarely converse with me, assuming I don’t speak Mandarin or Cantonese, which I do, albeit embarrassingly. Eventually it became a convoluted cycle, just like when someone starts calling you Tom when your name is actually Tim and you fail to correct them the first time, and the second time, and third, until you just can’t bring yourself to correct them anymore and end up having to avoid them altogether. Well, something like that.

There is a large group of Asian students in my course from my college, but although I’ve spoken to them a few times, mostly we share awkward “should-I-wave-or-pretend-not-to-recognise-each-other” moments. Ironically enough, the communication barrier is more significant between my fellow Asians and me than between the locals and me. I am also constantly worrying about how my less than conservative ways would be perceived through the eyes of traditional Asian values, which makes striking a friendship even more daunting for me.

Clearly, I am a bit like a fish out of water. Over the last two terms, I have found myself forming close friendships with what we Asians call the “Guai lohs” – ghost man, literally translated. I am deeply appreciative of them, and look forward to us becoming even greater friends. Even so, with my British friends, I’m always aware that I don’t completely blend in, especially looks-wise.

When you look at someone, perhaps the first thing that your subconscious registers is that person’s race, but how much does race actually define a person? I look at my Asian counterparts and I see myself reflected in their skin, but my interests and values parallel those of my English friends.

I am proud of my heritage, but sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to be a stereotype of one or the other. As an Asian with a set of unconventional personal values living in a Western country, it is easy to feel like a bit of a pariah at times.

One of my most significant memories of this term was attending the London International Model United Nations, which is a simulation of the United Nations conference where countries are represented by student delegates.

For the first time in more than 4 months, I didn’t feel different. With 400 student delegates from 46 countries, everyone was distinct, effectively putting us all on a level playing field. Everyone spoke with a unique accent, and many conversed in their mother tongue. It was refreshing.

As I mingled, I started to get the strangest feeling, like I was at home, but a home that I was incredibly fascinated by. Everyone had a story to tell and a culture to share. There was no need to blend in, like so many of us tend to try to in a place where social decorum had been set in place by those before us.

Everyone stood out, with our different shades of skin tones, contrasting facial features and accents that didn’t quite belong. Unlike places where there is a dominant majority race, there weren’t expectations or labels that came with one’s ethnicity or nationality. Everyone had a blank slate to start with.

At that point, I was glad for my difference. My race, culture and values were welcomed additions to an already diverse melting pot of characters, instead of a peculiar misfit.

So the answer to the question “to be or not to be Asian?”- It is definitely to be. Being Asian doesn’t come with a preset of hard and fast rules. It doesn’t define me. It merely adds a layer of richness to my identity- one which I am glad for. Besides, if I weren’t Asian, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of having the following things said (slurred/shouted) at me:

“Have you ever wanted to kiss an English boy?”

And my favourite:

”Go back to China and eat your own dogs!”

I was deeply wounded by this comment. For one, as I stated in my previous article, I am not from China. Secondly, my Golden Retriever and I have a strict no-eating-each-other relationship; she doesn’t bite me and I don’t eat her, it really works out for the best.

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