I’ve always hated this twee little quote.
Yeah well. I’m in a similar boat. I’m not with an Indian man, so every year I become more American and less Indian. I act American. I am American.
So I hear a lot of comments about Indians, particularly when everyone was outsourcing all of their call centers to India. I get crap like “Pass the Indian person to Anaamika, she can understand them”. Every weird article that comes out from India is directed at me. Somebody married a dog? Comment to Anaamika about it.
It’s so nice of Eleanor Roosevelt to say that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent - a rich white woman married to a powerful man, in a powerful family. Try walking a day in a poor Latina woman’s shoes…
Hell, I watched that documentary “The Queen of Versailles” and one of the saddest stories was the Filipino maid who hadn’t seen her own children in 10+ years because she was nannying some rich woman’s kids and sending as much money home as possible. In all those years the fucking Queen never once thought, hey, let me send my nanny home for a vacation, it won’t even cost a tiny bit to me? Nope, gotta buy more useless shit.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent…my ass.
In Jr High or thereabouts a group of punks that leaned in the skinhead direction took to calling me “Jewboy”. Which was just confusing, primarily because I’m not Jewish. But I certainly did and still look Jewish, what with my “jew fro”.
Once they called me that at lunch, while I was eating as ham sandwich.
Continued running away from the whip-wielding cops doing the namecalling.
This is one depressing-ass thread. 
Maybe they just like fucking fat pigs, that works too.
Yeah, and in five years we’ll have just as many incidents. And ten. And twenty.
Do I get extra points if it was a celebrity who called me a name?
As a child I once approached Willie “Pops” Stargell for an autograph at the ball park and was told “Get the fuck away from me casper!”
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You may not be aware of this, but Eleanor Roosevelt was not “The Queen of Versailles”. Eleanor offered advice, you don’t have to take her advice. The sun will still come up tomorrow.
If you’re willing to let other people make you feel inferior, that’s your problem. How you deal with your problem is also your problem.
“Fat cow”.
Hurt.
Oh, I don’t know. If you’re chained upside down and about to receive a molten lead enema, I suppose it would be a worse experience if you thought you deserved a molten lead enema. Somewhat.
:eek:
The quote was “feel inferior”, not “fill interior”. :rolleyes:
Kid in elementary school called me a nigger once. Once. I took that two-week suspension with nary an ounce of remorse.
When I was in boot camp, I also took part in an assault of a guy who called somebody else a nigger.
I’m a white Dutch girl living abroad. What happens is that people start giving out about “bloody foreigners” coming over here making a mess/taking our jobs/dealing drugs/being generally Not Like Us etc. And what I do is innocently go: “Ahem ,foreigner over here!” And they’re all like: “Oh no no no, sorry, we didn’t mean you!” It makes me laugh in a sad way.
Same here. I can pass for any number of ethnicities if I try, and people invariably attribute whatever they want to me, regardless. I had totally forgotten about this but several years ago I was living around the corner from this drunken old redneck who used to sit in his in his lawn chair in the street, drinking up a storm and raising hell. At first I used to yell at him myself but when that didn’t work I’d end up calling the police. He started yelling that “the Puerto Rican’s gonna call 911”. Not that slurry, I guess; I honestly don’t recall him ever using a slur for ‘Puerto Rican’. Apparently just my being Puerto Rican (which, by the way I’m not) was it’s own form of dishonor.
Yes. Random dude called me “Cracker”. I laughed out loud.
Not a huge fan of racial slurs but as a child I used them and was called them. Usually cracker and I had no idea what that meant. Now, the only time a racial slur is directed my way is if I’m playing a sport such as pickup basketball or football and then I hear the phrase “my nigga” used in reference to me and often. When I was playing regularly I heard the phrase so often that it has literally lost meaning to me. I still don’t use it in those situations because I’m sensitive to racial dynamics and why cause unnecessary strife?
If I were to be called a slur today by one who meant offense unless there was a physical threat I wouldn’t be worried or concerned. You get to a certain age in life and realize it’s childish to get too upset over simple name calling.
Yeah, I hate that Eleanor Roosevelt quote too. Of course it is just advice, but it has become so mainstream it is almost accepted as a fact. And effectively puts the guilt on the victim.
I am another one being associated with a race that I am far from being. Being married to an Indian I am entitled to a Person of Indian Origin card, which is effectively a lifelong visa given (mostly) to second and-third generation Indians living abroad, but also to spouses. But I am completely white. The number of times that immigration officers in Delhi have given me a quizzical look when I hand them the card, turn their head, squint, and then conclude I am Kashmiri is quite remarkable…
I have started a response to this thread a couple of times but never knew how to finish. Yes, in the end I am only responsible for myself. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel weird and shameful when someone is racist toward me for no reason.
I try to explain to people how it feels. Generally in my life I am surrounded by a whole community of people who grew up in this region, never traveled, and have lived in this region their whole lives. I am talking about not even traveling to NYC.
They have always lived in the same place. They have friendships that lasted 20-30 years.
Me, I moved 16 times before I turned 18, and that’s not even counting coming over from India. Everywhere I go I’ve been an outsider. Everywhere I go I’ve been the New Girl. I’m used to it, and even like it, but it’s not easy.
On top of that, everywhere I go I am surrounded by white people. I am regularly the only nonwhite person in the room. My work is full of white people. My hobbies - stereotypical white people hobbies. The movies and shows I like - full of white people. Worse yet, white people are considered the default. Video games, which I love, full of white people. Sometimes you can choose a race. Mostly if you’re lucky it’s white or black. Sometimes a generic “Asian” - which is almost always E Asian. And hell, when I make my characters, I often make white characters. So does my SO. I don’t know if that’s sad or what. But them’s the facts. But I am (mostly) Ok with all this. Oh, I bitch and moan and complain, but I still watch, because I have no choice in the matter and because I love my shows and my movies.
So not only am I the New Girl, I am always the Different Girl, too.
Now. People may forget that I am Indian, but I never do. I think of myself as American, but there is always a layer of “Where are you from?” Last week I got asked this question. I was feeling bold, and answered, “Michigan.” Then I got the dreaded followup: “No, where are you really from?” I should have stuck to my guns but I needed to be nice and polite (work relationship) so I said, “My parents are from India.”
All of this baggage comes with me everywhere. So when a racist remark is said in my presence or someone is nasty towards Indians, I can’t help that my first, albeit fleeting, emotion is shame. Usually simultaneously is surprise. Then comes anger, or irritation, or whatever.
I honestly feel that everyone should travel. Everyone should be a minority at some point in their lives. It’s a good experience. You learn that just because you always did something one way, or learned something one way, doesn’t mean it’s the only way. It’s one of many. I also think all Americans should learn a second language, preferably much earlier than high school. Same thing - it opens your mind.
Anyway, I am going to end this rambling post now. I hope it showed a little of how it feels to be a minority - not just black, but a member of a tiny minority. Oh, and I don’t even fit in the Indian community. So, forever between two worlds, never fitting into either! What a life! 