She’s Chinese

 

 

“You’re just like my wife. Hafta get your laps in!”

Pineapple Swim Trunks Man, too tan white guy, middle aged, eyes that wander without focus, eases himself into the hot tub where I’m recovering from a rather invigorating swim in the unheated pool. A zebra dove calls in the background as the palm trees whisper overhead. Puffy white clouds drift lazily in front of the emerald crags of Kaneohe’s mountains. I was relaxing, beginning to warm my frozen hands, but now?

Not knowing his wife, I just nod, agree that getting my laps in is a priority. But his tone had been disparaging. Like getting in your laps is somehow a waste of time or something that is beneath him. I can’t gauge what the issue is with his wife…. yet…

“She’s at Costco now.”

I frown, shake my head. “That sounds awful!” I sink a little further into the hot water, watching as a redheaded cardinal swoops down and lights atop the fence. Costco would be the last place I’d wanna be at any time, let alone in Hawaii.

“Yeah, well, if you’re gonna do it, I guess today is as good a day as any. Like she needs more stuff! The other day we were cleaning out a pile of junk and I found a receipt from Radio Shack from 1972! And I said to her, ‘I don’t think we need this anymore.’ But she never throws anything away.  What do you expect? She’s Chinese.”

I’m still processing the receipt from 1972 and agreeing with him in my mind that it probably can be thrown away when he tosses in the line about her being Chinese and that’s why she’s a hoarder.

Later, as Ian and I are strolling down the lovely shore of Kahana Bay, the sand a smooth caramel color, the aqua water lapping at our feet in languid warm waves, Ian mentions this comment and I say how racist it was and how sorry I felt for this poor woman that’s married to this jerk.

I have never heard of this derogatory bias against the Chinese---that they are hoarders. But I live in the Bay Area and even if somebody thought this, they would never utter it aloud. Sometimes, I forget that the area I live in is sensitive and respectful of other cultures more so than other parts of the world, even Hawaii. Here in Kaneohe, even though the environment is paradise, the military culture had taken over. Nothing against the military---well, maybe I have a little bias against the military, but that’s a whole other blog. I do, however, think that there may be a lot of derogatory biases against other races in the military, particularly women, and women of color doubly so. Of course, I don’t have any proof that Racist Guy is in the military or is ex-military. It’s just a vibe. One of narrow-minded dismissiveness. Of swimming. Of women. Of other races than himself.

As Ian and I continue our stroll down the beach, we spy a little girl, busy in the sand, building something. As we walk past, she calls out to her mom: “Mommy! Look! I’m making pizza!”

Ian and I laugh, delighted by her imagination, but another part of me thinks how, of course she’s ‘cooking’ something. Preparing a meal for her family. It’s woman’s work starting at an early age.

Let’s just hope that when she grows up, she doesn’t marry someone like Racist Guy who belittles her to total strangers in the hot tub. That her industry is rewarded instead of ridiculed. That even though she comes from the white privileged class, she learns to accept and respect other races and cultures.

How will this happen?

One pizza at a time. One pizza at a time…