You sometimes come across a post that is so douchetastically moronic that it simply boggles the mind and you stare at the screen paralysed with the sheer HUH of it all. So I had to write this to balance the immense dose of stupidity in the form of I’m an Asian Woman and I Refuse to Ever Date an Asian Man. You probably want to read it first, or this post isn’t going to make much sense to you.
Here’s my version.
I’m a Eurasian girl. I date everyone. Yep, I’m one of those that dates lots and lots of (mostly, but not always) guys: sometimes, I have love affairs with rose-vanilla tea. (It’s awesome.) I date brown guys. Red guys. And purple ones too. I even dated a rainbow-coloured guy once (he had a pony named Stalin, how the hell could I resist?).
Why? It’s simple: I’m Eurasian – Kristang. My race is a mix of many, many different races; I don’t even know the full list of ethnicities which are part of my big ancestral party.
Yep, I said it. I. Date. Everyone.
And guess what? I’m not alone. I’m actually – I shudder to think – part of a trend. Eurasians are marrying non-Eurasians at a rate much higher than any other ethnic group. Even though we’re going to be extinct soon! We don’t even have our own category in the population census!
This year, my Romance Acquisition Officer reported that of my Q1-Q3 2012 romantic liaisons, 22% were Asian, 21% were white, 24% were in fact stalkers, and the rest were simply from another planet (which explains a lot about how my love life has been going recently).
This trend has nothing to do with skin color. It has everything to do with the fact that I am usually too busy flirting to notice someone’s skin colour (unless it’s dim and he’s radioactive, because that’s kinda distracting).
It would be easy to say that what I’m looking for culturally doesn’t come in an Kristang package, but the truth is, I simply don’t give a damn what race a boy is.
No one has written about Eurasian values in New York magazine, (no surprises there) but my heart still beats faster when I smell debal curry, pretty much the only thing that most Singaporeans know about our cultural heritage.
Allow me to summarize Eurasian values for you:
Screw caring about what people think. Do whatever the hell you want. Always sing ‘Quando, Quando, Quando‘ for your non-Eurasian friends at karaoke sessions, because it seems to amuse them (we don’t know why). Guard the family recipes with your life. Screw deference to other cuisines that claim to have invented pineapple tarts. Forget stiff wedding dinners where people just sit around and bore the hell out of each other. Forget about your diet at the family Easter Brunch. If people seem to be under the impression that all Eurasians have mad skills in bed (we also don’t know why), just let them think so. Date whoever the hell you want, because you are rojak anyway so it’s doubly stupid for you to be racist, amirite?
My mother (a Kristang mom) is so not obsessed with my womb, its possible fruit and my marital status that it creeps me out sometimes. In fact, I think our Prime Minister is probably more eager for me to reproduce than she is. I can’t fathom that she has never said ‘biological clock’ to me in my entire life and never goes on about “settling down and finding a nice boy.”
The physical attributes of my ideal man? If we’re being stereotypical about it, well, sorry, I don’t do stereotypes. I think Jonah Lehrer is a sexrockandrollcandybrainbomb, so draw your own conclusions from that.
If a charming, funny, intellectually curious, awesome man who has untied himself from the shackles of Kristang values came my way – bearing a plate of perfect debal curry- I would probably pass out (from the chili fumes; debal curry is practically a biological weapon).
Partly, it’s because I can date whoever the hell I want. More of me and other “random” date-everyone-lah Kristang girls live in communities with people of other races. Oh wait – so do most Singaporeans. More of us have outgoing friends (because ALL Kristang are party animals, right) which exposes us to a wide variety of interesting boys who are by default, usually not Kristang because there are so few of us.
But it’s also because we Kristang don’t see ourselves as minorities, immigrants, outsiders. We are usually too busy having a life and doing interesting things to be angsty about the fact that we’re going extinct. And we want the same thing that new arrivals to Singapore have wanted for – okay, not for very long, actually: To find a damn flat that doesn’t have a sky-high COV.
I was born in Seletar to Kristang parents and migrated to Bishan when I was five. I don’t have an accent. Aside from my performance voice that I use for readings and emceeing. Or the variety of voices I use on the mrbrownshow. Or my convent girl inflections. My cooking skills can be applied to any cuisine, because all it takes is knowing how to read a damn recipe. My English is better than my Kristang. Unless you count expletives (it’s awesome having a Kristang dad who was a sailor when he was young!). My closet is filled with books about mythology, hard copies of manuscripts, and an entire colony of notebooks. Also, some clothes. I don’t worry about the brands and where they’re from, because I doubt the labels on my clothes have magical powers which include culturally brainwashing me. Also, I do not give a damn about labels in general. On my clothes or otherwise.
My pale, white rabbit jokes (or so he would, if he could talk) that I’m one of the most romantically random owners he’s ever had. And that’s true. Mostly because I am the only owner he has ever had.
I date all men because the term “I only date [insert ethnicity] men” grosses me out. I date all men because it feels like I’m not ostracizing myself in an Kristang
ghetto kampong (if they did still exist) and antiquated ideas of Eurasian life, like sitting around in the afternoon and strumming a guitar. Also, I am selectively tone deaf and would not last 5 seconds in a Kristang kampong (because all Kristang are musically talented, see). I don’t see myself as a minority. Because with that, pretty soon comes angst. And I have more interesting and awesome things to do than be angsty.
Dating all men means acceptance of a specific belief: Saying you refuse to date a certain ethnicity pretty much confirms that you should not be allowed to breed, let alone interact with other human beings.
I realize my thinking is alien to some people. I get that. Well, tough shit. If any man exceeds the acceptable boob-glance-to-eye-contact-ratio, then still thinks he’s getting his hands on my debal curry, all I can say is: HA HA HA!
And yes, I am Kristang, but I still eat the same fish noodles and tau huay as everyone else. I love fish noodles. So. Much. If you think this is racial supremacy, if you think that one race is still tops, exam grades, corporate jobs and fancy degrees be damned, then…. (a) you are a moron, because eating a something doesn’t mean you absorb the culture of the ethnicity/ country it originated from and (b) you need to realize that dating the “dominant race” is not going to reassemble your DNA or make people look at you as part of that race. It’s not, okay? Trust me.
In the Lanfang Times, Professor Pong says: “And yet here’s the thing: if the critique of
white unicorn supremacy doesn’t first flow through you, then you have, in fact, almost guaranteed its survival. There’s that old saying: the devil’s greatest trick is that he convinced people that he doesn’t exist. Well, white unicorn supremacy’s greatest trick is that it has convinced people that, if it exists at all, it exists always in other people, never in us. THE EYE OF THE UNICORN SEES ALL, YOU FOOLS.”
(No, I don’t know what the hell unicorns have to do with it either.)
So here it is: I date everyone. I’d rather not be so random in my love life. I’d much rather be swept up into that beautiful land of racially confusing and confusingly hot Kristang girls who dutifully ensure the survival of our race by only dating Kristang boys.
But I do not and will never include ethnicity as a selection criteria in my love life.