Asian Passing, White Walking

graphic by Maria Tapia

My name is Jordana. I’m a Chinese American adoptee from New Jersey. I have two dads and a brother. I have Asian features, but I know nothing about my culture. During college, I tried learning Chinese, but it didn’t stick. I go to Chinatown and devour soup dumplings, but my family barely celebrates Chinese New Year. Overall, I don’t feel Chinese. 

I wouldn’t by any means say I am “whitewashed.” I don’t act in stereotypical ways of being white and nothing about me is even remotely conventional. But I lack culture. I lack the culture and knowledge that is expected to be behind my black hair, black eyes, round nose, and tan skin. I didn’t have an understanding of what a qipao was until my senior year of college. The most stereotypical thing about me is my “tiger parents,” expecting productivity around the clock, which is the reason for my obsession with my LinkedIn and my feelings of inadequacy. But ultimately, I walk around without a culture. I walk around Asian passing, but can I call myself Asian? 

The one time I felt Asian was at my college, where I was welcomed by the pan Asian community and specifically the Filipino organization. They shared their culture with me and invited me in. Members assumed I was Filipino with the corresponding background and upbringing. That was a first within the Asian American community where I wasn’t seen as white and I was seen for the color of my skin and the culture behind it. College is over now and I’m very much back to square one. 

After post-grad, I was searching for a writing community. I was accepted as a staff writer for a magazine all about supporting Asian creatives. I was so excited because there were Asians from around the globe and I got to collaborate with them. Unfortunately, I got kicked off the team without warning. I was working on a project about my sexual assault experience. The piece was finalized, the graphics polished, yet it never got published. I received an email thanking me for my efforts, but they no longer felt they could keep me on the team. No explanation was included and no response to my email reply. They took down all of my previous work as well. I thought I was accepted by them and felt comfortable writing such a personal story, but I wasn’t. I was rejected. And no explanation as to why. Maybe what I wrote wasn’t Asian enough? Maybe what I said didn’t fit Asian expectations? Or maybe the issue was that I wasn’t Asian. I have nothing to write about in regards to my culture. I don’t have a culture. Regardless of whether or not me not being Asian enough was the reason I was kicked off, it hurt.

Feeling invalidated, I cried. My friend told me that she has felt similarly being Dominican and Chinese and not feeling accepted by either side. We discovered that we both walk around feeling white. We both walk around forgetting that we don’t have pale skin or brown/blonde hair. We don’t look like the majority around us, but we believe we are part of it. What we and those who feel similarly to us need to remember is that we walk around every day in our skin, which validates our experience as people of color. This is true even if I have certain forms of white privilege through my parents or other close associates. 

A few weeks later, I was asked to speak at an event about Asian American Pacific Islander hate. I felt like an outcast or someone who maybe was not appropriate for the role. I had not experienced any hate living in a liberal town. I do not have Asian family members outside of my brother. This means there was less of a chance that I would understand what Asian hate feels like even if I have Asian features. The organizer said my perspective is different and welcome. But some panelists disagreed. I was told my views were tone-deaf. I believed Asian Americans were being self-centered when they claimed it was unfair that Asian hate wasn’t getting as much support as the Black Lives Matters Movement. The panelists and other Asian Americans I’ve spoken to were failing to see how the movements are entirely separate entities. The Asian Americans also felt owed allegiance from the black community. The black community has been expressing how they don’t feel they have to support fighting Asian hate when historically the Asian community has been racist against them as well. I feel as though I can understand where the black community is coming from because I am not tied to my Asianness and so I don’t take offense. This might differ for someone who feels they and the rest of their family is being attacked by that statement. The rest of my family is white. They nor I take offense. I was told the level I was trying to take the conversation was too in-depth and not in the direction they were aiming to go in. This left me unsure of what else I could bring to the table. I wasn’t Asian enough for this conversation. Again. 

Being “Asian” is confusing. I still struggle every day with my identity, questioning how I can be Asian when I only have the features, but nothing else. How can I be Asian if I know none of the languages? What makes me Asian? What makes you Asian? I have no clue. But I hope if you do walk around disconnected in your skin that you can find a community that makes you feel loved and valid. Find a community or a resource that can help you explore these questions and get involved as you want to get to find the answers you seek. I know I will feel this way for a long time, forgetting I am Asian when I am walking in public, being completely lost when Asians talk about their commonalities in their childhood and just having so many questions that no amount of research can answer. It’s frustrating, infuriating even, and writing this article stirred up more questions than answers. I guess I can only end on what I hope for myself. I hope that someday I won’t need to rely on anything or anyone to tell me I’m Asian. That someday, I’ll just be. I’ll be Asian. I’ll be enough.