Poorly Worded Letter of Passion

Great Emporer An,

I know I’m always the first person to call something “gay,” but I warn you now. This is going to be super fucking gay…

Because this is a letter to you. It’s only for you, though I want everyone to see it. I want everyone to know how amazing you are. I want everyone to be as mesmerized by you as I am.

You are quite possibly the most amazing person that I have ever met. There is not a single flaw in your character. And I think that it is exactly that which keeps me so drawn to you.

I think that it is precisely the fact that you are a good person, that makes me want to be around you so much. And to be a better person.

You’re goals babe.

You have a level head, and yet you feel passion when necessary. You’re booksmart, but not to the extent that it prevents you from having social intelligence. You’re shy, but in the way that makes people want to get to know you.

You’re tons of things. But I think what is most important to me is that you are balanced.

To me, you are balance.

You keep me balanced.

Whenever my reaction is disproportionate to something, you are able to pull me back. I need that.

I fly off the handle pretty easily.

Everyone says that I’m acting different, but in a good way. They say I’m nicer (which fuck all of you because I’ve always been nice). They say I’m calmer. They say I seem more at peace.

And I don’t want to be that stupid movie cliché and say it’s all because of you, but you certainly helped.

So I’m feeling all of this right now, and we’re hitting the sweet spot, while you’re doing an internship in China.

For two whole months.

We will be in different time zones for two whole months. I won’t be able to hug you for two whole months.

I tried to get myself in the mindset of not being able to talk to you whenever before you left, but i wasn’t ready.

I can honestly feel the distance between us.

And it’s sucks. Because I already miss you.

A fucking lot.

And I think I’m falling in love with you.

And you’re in China.

And I have to wait.

Two whole fucking months.

Until you come back.

And I can tell you this in person.

To your face.

And watch the way your eyes light up as you smile.

I can’t wait for you to come home babe. And I mean it when I say home, because even though China is your real home, you belong here, with me.

Signed

Your doggie

Di Me Que Me Amas

At work the other day, a woman asked where I was from. When I told her that I was from here, and inquired as to why she had asked that question, her reply was…

“You have those oriental eyes.”

If you don’t see the problem with her statement, hop on over to Google and read up, friend.

I’m tired of being fetishized. I am tired of being told that I look different than most black people, because it is a fact, that most black people, look different than most black people. Its called a phenotype, and unless your name is either Tia or Tamera Mowry, I think it’s safe to assume that your genetic presentation is pretty original to you.

So, sorry, Josh, Jake, John, Jennifer, Justin, Jimmy, or Jan, we don’t all look alike. (Lol that was a joke. Don’t be offended white people. I love you, but you have a lot of J names.)

I don’t take it as a compliment when I am told that I don’t look black, as a way of telling me that I am attractive. Because when you say to me, “I don’t usually like black guys, but you’re gorgeous,” what you’re actually saying is, “Normally, I think black guys are ugly, but you don’t look like them, so you’re attractive in spite of being black.”

Well, news flash; I do look like them, Bitch. And my blackness does not detract from my attractiveness, it enhances it. And fuck you, Jeff.

But honestly, my issue isn’t just with white people and their tendency to sniff out otherness like bloodhounds on the hunt for the newest falafel spot…

… white people, you love falafel far too much to have elected this president. Now retreat to your corner of the room and eat the Complicit Casserole.

Squash-Casserole_24_add-layer-of-dry-stuffing-mix1

BUT MY BLACK PEOPLE! You don’t get to skirt by untouched by this matter. No, because when Miss June feels comfortable enough to look me in the eye and say that I look oriental, there’s a problem. And I’ll give it to you here, because I’m sure there’s at least one person who neglected to actually look up the issue…

A PERSON CANNOT BE ORIENTAL. A rug can be oriental. Rice can be oriental. Hell, even a wig, made from the hair of a Chinese woman herself, can be oriental. HOWEVER, a person canNOT be oriental.

They are fucking ASIANS.

And I don’t look Asian. So stop it Aunt Jackie. I look just as black as you do, if not more so.

But, it doesn’t stop there. Since we are on the topic of Asians, who tend to be the largest portion of my dating pool, and only God knows why, I have a little story.

I was seeing this Chinese guy a little while back. He was awesome, and we had a great time together. He taught me how to say a few things in Chinese, which I forgot almost immediately after he taught me, but it was a fun time.

And he was really hot. Like if any of you have ever heard of Jackson Wang, I mean on that level type of hot, dude. It was actually frustrating because I knew that he was way out of my league.

wu (This is Jackson Wang)

We were definitely getting more serious, which was why no one knew we were dating. (I tend to not talk about the people that I can see myself getting serious with, due to a superstitious fear of ruining it.) But, things kind of came to a halt when he began to tell me about his parents.

The conversation went as follows…

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “M’key (because he could never say my name the right way) would you ever go to, China with me?”

Me: “Totally! I mean I’ve always been kind of interested in China, but I kind of don’t want to be killed.”

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “Killed…?”

Me: “Well, I’ve always read that the Chinese don’t like black people very much.”

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “Ahhhh, I see. Yeah, I would love to take you home to my parents and see the reactions on their faces. I would be bringing home a guy, and the guy is black! They would die.”

I still don’t really know what he meant by this, but it kind of hurt my feelings a little bit. It isn’t why we stopped seeing each other though, we actually just both stopped having time, or stopped making time. I would be remiss to say that this didn’t add to my lack of desire to see him again, though.

It is my experience that black is seen as bad. However, it is also seen as desirable. Therefore, if someone is black, the non black attraction must find a way to justify its attraction to this black evil. White people often try to justify their attraction to me by saying that I don’t look like most black people.

On the other hand, black people seem to want me because they also see me as other. And I guess, in othering me, they believe that I help them obtain the ability to step off of this black bus that society has relegated them to.

I don’t. I’m right there on that bus with you Tyrone. I just have a window seat.

As far as Asians go, I guess they just want to use me to give their sweet old mothers heart attacks. I’m OK with that though, as long as they are always within the relative hotness of Jackson Wang.

I guess the only people who haven’t ever done me wrong are the Latinx. So ven aqui, Papi, y di me que me amas.

Total sidebar, but has anyone ever seen a pregnant Asian woman?

Also, Native Americans totally exist. I’ve just never had much interaction with them, seeing as they were almost killed out by the colonials…

You’re fucking up, White People.