Micro-Aggressions, and Why They Hurt

One time, before the advent of Uber, I hired a black car to take me from Brooklyn to Manhattan. My driver kept asking me, “how much do you cost.” I was too shocked at the time to reply, but if I could go back in time, I would tell him firmly “I am not for sale sir, and I do not know why you think that.”

Another time in New York, at Bed Bath & Beyond on 6th avenue and 21st street, I was going through a heavy revolving door. The old man in front of me was struggling with it. I tried to give the door a push to help us both through. I pushed too hard and accidentally hit his heel. He yelled at me, “Go back to your country!”.

I’ve been casually walking through the streets of NYC in Union Square or the East Village, and people yell “ni hao!” “konnichiwa!” “anhyungsaeyo!” to me through their car windows, on the side walk, or in a shop.

That’s in New York. Maybe I became accustomed in it, or the instances were too few and far between for me to notice their accumulative affect. Now that I live in Europe, it seems that being Asian is an open invitation for innocent harassment.

In Paris, I’ll be going about my daily life — riding the metro, picking out fruits at the primeur, buying wine at Monoprix, and strangers invite themselves to come up to me and ask me where I am from. “America” is never a satisfactory answer. Sometimes, it turns into a long guessing game where I exasperatingly keep telling them “no” to all of their guesses.

I was on the way to a recent alumni event when a French woman came up to me on the street near the Grand Palais and started speaking to me in Japanese, expecting me to understand.

Another time, I was going through security at Gare de l’Est on my way to Brussels, putting my bag through the scanner, when the security guard all of a sudden felt compelled to bow down to me and say “konnichiwa.” I brusquely told her, “I’m not Japanese.” “Sorry,” she stumbled. But then she recovered, “Then where are you from?” she asked, challenging me, as if I couldn’t simply have black hair and slanty eyes without being Japanese. “America,” I huffed, as I grabbed my bag and headed to catch my train without giving her a second glance.

I was at an interview and my CV states that I speak Chinese at an intermediate level. All of my work experience is listed in New York. My interviewer was delighted that I understand “Asia” and could help give them insights on that market. I didn’t have the heart to correct her that I’d never lived nor worked in Asia and had spent my entire life in the United States up until recently.

I was at another interview when my interviewer asked me point blank if I would be okay “selling to men” and working in a male dominated industry. Again, I was too shocked to respond, but if I could go back in time, I would say “You should be happy to hire me. They will have men trying to sell them software all of the time, and if one woman walks into the door and tries to talk to them, who do you think they will remember?”.

These instances… while harmless on the outset… (after all, no one is being physically harmed or verbally abused. They seem like innocent questions by curious bystanders, right?) serve as a constant reminder that I am “other”, that I am different from them. And in today’s society, being different sucks. It’s the gateway for discrimination, biases, and bullying, all based on things that we cannot change about ourselves — the color of our skin, the way we talk, where we are “from”, whether we are female or male. And I am guilty of these biases too, for sure.

Today, it’s at the point where I’m actually really happy when French shopkeepers greet me in French and speak to me in French. It’s okay if they gently ask if I understand, and then we can sort of speak in Franglish together. What I don’t appreciate is people who make the assumption for me, who have no business talking to me but think it is okay to disturb me about my daily life and follow me through the metro.

I just want to be me, living my life. And I guess that’s a privilege these days that only goes to people who “fit in.” I’m American, but I’m not white. I’m Asian, but I’ve never lived in Asia and I stick out like a sore thumb when I go visit my family in Taiwan. Now I live in France, where I’m not French. I’m never going to belong anywhere.

All I hope is that people practice kindness towards one another. #Thisis2016.