It seems that a lot of people make the assumption that if a white female is attracted to someone of another race this must be because they aren’t attractive enough to date within their “own” race or because they have a weight problem. This is incredibly insulting for both parties involved. And I don’t mean to sound vain but I believe myself to be attractive and I’m definitely not overweight. I’ve actually just fluctuated between 118 and 125 pounds since the age of 16.
Throughout grade school on into high school white boys simply rarely held my attention. And when they did it was short lived.
As I mentioned on the About Me page… My very first crush was Japanese. I recall this easily as it was the first time I became fascinated, in that way, by another person. I couldn’t stop looking at him and wanted to be near him, vying for any attention that I could get from him. And he called me “weird” in true 5 year old boy fashion. Later, I would have a crush on a Vietnamese boy throughout grade school. He also called me “weird” a few times.
So, perhaps it was just the natural progression of things? That and being weird.
I’ve also heard some suggest that white women are wearing Asian boyfriends in some “Colors of Benetton” style fashion, like sporting the newest Louis Vuitton “Oriental” handbag, as if one could wear an Asian person like an accessory.
What the— Seriously?! Who the Hell are these women???? This is really a thing? Actually, it sounds kinda kinky… and extremely uncomfortable as I’m suddenly imagining my 6′ Korean [ex] boyfriend draped over my shoulder (I’m 5’6) as I twist an ankle in some dainty Valentino stilettos while propping myself against a wall in the hallway, whining, “Ummmm baby… Baby, I don’t think I can hold you anymore. I’m about to sprain an ankle or herniate something. Maybe I should be the accessory tonight.” and then I’d hang onto his back like a spider monkey as some Joan Rivers-type commentator rattles on, “It’s simply wild! Wearing white girl has actually been hitting the scene long before hitting runways, rivaling Christian Dior’s new line of Bohemian glam white fox fur… although it isn’t as sexy without the bludgeoning –although– perhaps if we whack her about the face and skull a few times… A busted lip would be bloody haute! Do do think, Tyra darling?!”
Yeah. I promise not to wear a man of any race or nationality as a fashion accessory but what you do with white girls is entirely your business. >wink<
So, now I’ll backup some. Going back in time once more.
There were not a lot of Asian kids in the schools I attended growing up. I was raised in Tennessee and central Florida, so big shocker, right. And still I managed to be crushing on East Asian boys throughout my formative years. Hmmm… interesting.
At the start of my Junior year in high school there were two new kids in class; me and Ming (English name, Sean).
Ming, I meant Sean… and I totally clashed that year. It seemed that everything I did annoyed him and my behavior made him uncomfortable. He had become accustomed to some kind of “token Asian kid” role and there I was to fuck it all up with this quirky behavior he couldn’t quite comprehend. And it kind of annoyed me that he seemed to have accepted this “good boy/student” role.
I had just left an old life behind at a Christian boarding school in Florida and had taken on a whole new attitude, much like they say about Catholic school girls. Bad… and also not a fan of religion, propriety or assimilation in any way, shape or form.
And there was Ming. “Ummmmm… Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”
And me. “What. You hate when a girl stares at you?”
And Ming. “Hmph… I just don’t see why. Can I help you with something?”
I shot him a look of disapproval and he rolled his eyes.
For a while after that you’d think I was trying to molest him and I started to assume that he hated me.
We exchanged ongoing awkward banter, like this…
“Stop calling me Ming. I go by Sean. I should’ve never told you my non-English name.”
“God. Ok. Whatever… but I like Ming.”
“I don’t give a damn.”
“Damn. You’re so mean.”
And so on… until we both decided to ignore each other for the rest of that year.
But senior year came and I noticed something in Sean had changed and he had suddenly sprouted as well.
I felt frustrated by this change because naturally I would be tempted to stare and/or flirt with him.
I had changed too and was coming into my own… listening to music like Nick Cave, Iggy Pop and French singers like Françoise Hardy while taking private art classes, occasionally smoking pot and drinking whiskey with friends; a group of foreign exchange students (I know I know, typical. Right.) and had recently tried sex.
Sean and I had both joined the swim team and shared the same swim coach.
Coach Matoki was Japanese, handsome, in his mid 30s and my friend April had a huge crush on him.
Sean was also suddenly much taller than me and looked like a man. His tan skin was even darker now from swimming outside and I noticed his swimmers physique.
And this time, when I stared at him, he stared back.
Continues to Part I and a 1/2