It may not be too surprising, maybe it is
But the question I field the most in high school
Has nothing to do with calculus, nothing to do with biology
Hell, it doesn’t even have anything to do with colleges
People most want to know if I’m Chinese, Japanese, or Korean

Sometimes, when they think they’re funny
They like to pull their skin back to thin their eyes into slits
And their friends erupt into prepubescent sidekick laughter
And I’d laugh right along
Not because I was a prepubescent sidekick
But because those jokes didn’t bother me
That much

The first person to ask me that was a black kid who maybe stood 6 foot
As a freshman
Wearing his new LeBron jersey with the Miami Heat logo plastered in front
Complete with Air Jordan’s and official NBA socks
He asked me politely with his head bowed
Maybe a bit too low
I think I saw him snicker, but I was too naïve to be sure

Well honestly bro, I know which one I am
But I can’t tell you the difference between the Chinese, the Japanese, or the Koreans
Or in some of your cases, the Chinks, the Japos, and the *****
Cause’ even if I could, it wouldn’t matter
I’ve seen some of you ignorant ******* taste Sushi
and widely proclaim it as the weirdest Chinese **** you have ever tasted
Sushi comes from the Land of The Rising Sun, fyi
And one would think that you Americans would know more about the country
You guys basically nuked 65 years ago

But let me tell you about being Asian
Let me tell you about the ridiculous Asian accents done by ignorant classmates and even friends
Let me tell you about teaching simple words to the curious
Only to discover they’re really just interested in learning foreign swear words
C’mon kids, there’s Google translate for that garbage

Let me express the frustrations and embarrassment when you’re young
and only good at counting thus far
Yet you already speak the English language better than your parents
I used to always insist on leaning over my mother’s lap
So I could holler into the speaker at McDonald’s drive-thru

You guys want to rip me on my own driving too
Well I got styles yo, just like my hair
I got my Tokyo Drift, my Jeremy Lin, my Mario Kart
Or my turn signal on for the last five miles
And once you step into that high school everyone,
and I mean everyone, thinks you’re good at math and
expects you to give out answers in bulk like fortune cookies
You all think that I know the clever tricks
that Asians use for their grade-point-averages
Well, I have a C in AP calc
They say A stands for Asian
Well, does my C stand for, Caucasian?

Did ya’ll know that every year, my Swim team would travel upstate to Pekin High for a meet
And until 1980, they were known as the Chinks
And every time their football team scored a TD, a white kid dressed in Asian gear
Would bang on a gong while some players and fans would bow solemnly?

And when my boy Jeremy was dubbed by your boy LeBron
You guys all laughed and jeered when ESPN was headlined the next day with the phrase
“***** In The Armor”

For a while, I felt a shame for being Asian
I would express my private desires to be White or Black if I had the choice
Drawing the patient lectures from my parents that were admittedly, in poorly spoken English

Even now these so-called friends would still rib me about my ethnicity
This is where colleges come in kids
And yes, I got into a great school
But it is not the purpose of my life to get good grades, good colleges, or
satisfaction from my dad
I only strive to do what you all strive to do
and that makes me as American as you all
So it would be fitting for me to address the jury the way I am about to
Therefore to all you calc cheaters and arrogant good drivers,
to all of the fake friends and prepubescent sidekicks
*******

He looks at me hard, with disproval or disbelief, I cannot tell
He blinks twice, fast
Licks his lips in anticipation
Because what he is about to say can be taken so many ways
A lot of them badly

“Dude, you date her?”
“Yeah, I do”
“You love her?”
“Yeah, I do”
“You kiss her?”
“Yeah, I do”
“But she’s---” (shuts up)
“Yeah, she is”

Black
Before he spouts out another protest
before he blinks twice, licks his lips all over again
And points out that Asians shouldn’t date black girls
false
I ask him to take a look at what we’re both wearing
Black
Because quite simply, black looks good

So does she

He asks me why,
and I proceed to give him more reasons on why I date a black girl
than Republicans can against Obamacare
1: Black looks good
2: She’s a track star; runs like a horse
3: that’s really hot
4: Her eyes turn me into the walls of Jericho; I crumble down without resistance
5: She has the most beautiful smile that I have ever seen
6: I don’t need a 6

A thought for the public
If Beyonce dumped Jay-Z due to a sudden hunger for Asian men
Posted online for all the “single calculus geniuses” to meet her at a certain point
on a coordinate plane
I guarantee you that she’ll find a crowd bigger than both of their reputations combined
They’ll come in droves, driving like fanatics
You got your Tokyo Drift, your Jeremy Lin, your Mario Kart
and your blinker left on for the last 5 miles

Another idea to chew on
When my sister was asked who was the most attractive man in Hollywood
her response time was faster than Usain Bolt’s
She picked Anthony Mackie; I see some of ya’ll nodding
She even nicknamed him “Black Beauty”

Well my Black Beauty is in this room
She’s my own Queen B
Got me so drunk in love
My friends be scanning the sky for Cupid
Sending arrows from above

So why do people question the logic on whom I date
If I love her, that should overcome all misgivings
Not like they should’ve existed in the first place

I implore him to revisit this nation 170 years ago
when ***** wasn’t yet a racial term
rather it was the sound of the clanking of metal to railroad
as the slaves built train tracks for this country to be connected

To this day we still have more Emmitt Tills than we ever should
Trayvon Martin
Sean Bell
Oscar Grant
Rhamarley Graham
Jonathan Ferrell
The list goes on and on
Just like the subtle discriminations the black race still endures

At this point he might say that I am off topic, overboard
that I don’t have a clue of what I’m talking about
He’s only partially right because I am Asian
Not black, but yellow
But I can relate just a bit

And even to this day, white boys in school halls try to talk black because they think its ****
Rich women still clutch their purses tighter upon seeing you in public
Nervous people in elevators still eye you and your tats and make bogus assumptions
Authorities still follow you just because you’re wearing an oversized hoodie,
sagging your pants, and showing off your under armour

You know why these people point and stare and whisper
when laying eyes on you
making you feel like you’re courtside at a Clippers game
Some do it out of elitism and habit
Others out of fear
And some do it because quite simply, black looks good

And even though I intended to stop at 5,
He now has millions of reasons on why it’s ok I date a black girl
And rest assured, he is not the only one who needed to hear them

He blinks twice, licks his lips one final time
“But she’s black dude”
“Yeah, she is”
But she is so much more

The loudest sounds most kids hear on a school day
are lockers slamming, or maybe the late bell tone
I hear all of those, but the loudest sounds by far
are those created by the lacrosse team
when they beat the **** out of me
every day,
after 8th hour, at the intersection of nerd street and **** avenue

The attacks were formulaic, more complex than Pythagoras
but simpler than Newton’s Binomial Theorem;
Two would tackle me, one would pin me down,
and the rest would kick me around as if it were soccer tryouts
and I was nothing more than a ball
and regardless of whether you derived or integrated this equation
you always got the same solution
me ******, and them ****** happy

I would go home bawling; so would they
but instead of tears they dropped floaters
And I had a rep as the kid with a concussion before the season even began

I was born five pounds tops, with no biceps whatsoever
and as I grew my arms didn’t follow
making me as clear a target as a corpsman in World War 2
To my doc’s urging I drank milk religiously
but that didn’t do **** when I tangled with Darren Shields and his Air Jordans on 4th and eternity
Instead of my ankles however, he broke my ribs; 6 of em’
Told me he’d **** me if I ratted
So I told the mother I fell off my skateboard
Because I didn’t want a rematch with Muhammad Ollie

I considered hitting the off switch on my life
at least three times a week
but I didn’t know how to tie a noose,
didn’t know where my dad’s shotgun was
and I wasn’t ballsy enough to try a steak knife
Which is ironic because if I was brave enough for that
none of this may have happened
I’ll even admit I liked to daydream about building
and bringing a bomb to school by backpack
getting revenge by leaving a crater
where my class was at

And though the bible said suicide was cowardly
I was too cowardly for suicide
So I reasoned that if I got into college out of state
it would be worth a couple more years
of broken bones, ***** dousings, and concussions
So I did nothing


Fast forward eight years
I gained two feet in height
Armanis replace my Reeboks
a multinational corporation, my 4.0’s
I’ve made the covers of Fortune and GQ,
my speed-dial list comprises of more celebrities than actual friends
my annual salary consists of two significant numbers
followed by double-digit zeroes

When I’m not working overtime I spend my days
pulling beautiful women and enjoying the pleasures
that God gave us
Every time I yank my shirt off, each girl gives me the
same wide-eyed expression and unspoken question
regarding the cruel scars all over my body,
to the point where I resort to answering every time with,
“I played lacrosse in high school.”

And I have never forgotten about high school
But Darren Shields has, and fate has him working several floors down
He HAS forgotten
He has forgotten me, my face, my voice when I pleaded for mercy
But I have not forgotten him
Nor have I forgotten my hatred
Nor my fear

I could hurt him
I could fire him with contempt
or disgrace him publicly
or to the very least, remind him of the good old days
and make him feel like the **** he was
But I don’t; I won’t

He must wonder why I struggle
to look him in the eye
or shudder when he cheerfully claps me
on the shoulder every morning  
As I am still haunted by them old days

And despite how I now spend my life in a huge office
surrounded by wealth, women,
and mostly absolute silence
I can still hear the sounds of lockers slamming,
of late bell tones
But loudest of all, I hear the sound of my body breaking
Thanks to Darren Shields on 4th and eternity