h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It being that food is supposed to be one of the centers of Chinese life, I will start out by saying that the banana is neither fish nor fowl. A banana, for those who have never heard the term, is a slightly more rude reference to an American-born Chinese (aka ABC) – a person who’s yellow on the outside and white on the inside.
We never quite fit in fully with either group. In Chinatown we are spoken to in Chinese and can only shake our heads, sometimes in regret, sometimes in annoyance. Among whites (by which I actually mean most non-Asian Americans, and only call them whites out of convenience and a deep hatred of hyphenation), someone has to ask whether we know a good Chinese restaurant (as if!) Among older whites there is still a faint undercurrent of assumption that Chinese ought to defer to them. Fortunately I have only experienced this a few times.
Also fortunate for me personally is living between Silicon Valley and San Francisco. Probably all ethnicities can be found here, and there doesn’t appear to be much concern about ethnic distinction. So the $10,001 question is, why aren’t I married?

Sometimes being a banana is genuinely funny, especially when it points out the stupider assumptions of whites. I was installing a computer network in Placerville and went to meet a friend at the old Hangtown bar to figure out what to do for lunch. I sat down and the barkeep set a Budweiser in front of me without asking what I wanted. I asked my friend if he’d ordered it for me and he said no. I shrugged, drank the beer and we worked out where to go and what to do next. I thought to call the next installation site to let them know when I would arrive, and got up to find a phone. Some locals at the end of the bar began waving and pointing wordlessly. For some reason, I though they had overheard my conversation and were trying to be helpful. I went in the direction they pointed, only to find the restroom. No phone there. Comprehension began to dawn, and I said (accentlessly, to any native Californian), “No, I’m looking for the telephone.”
It was as if the dam on their mouths broke. “Oh yeah, it’s over there.” “It’s right by the window.” “Who’re you trying to call?” one asked as I flipped through the phonebook. I explained I was going up to one of the local high schools, and they became very friendly, gave me directions and everything and told some stories about their adventures in school.

Bananas tend to point one direction or the other. In my observation, if a banana grows up in a strongly Asian community, it will grow more Asian. I was raised in an Italian neighborhood and the nearest Chinese family was about 2 miles away. There were in total about six Chinese families spread out among three adjacent towns. Banana development is also partly dependent on the strength of the parents’ urging to go one way or the other. But strong pressure to stay Chinese can have the opposite effect as well. My hairdresser, who describes his mother as “extremely traditional”, is the swishiest guy I have ever met, Chinese or otherwise. I love him simply because he breaks my own stereotypes about Chinese guys.

But it isn’t my intent to talk about the joys of bananahood. It’s a downright pain in the ass when it comes to finding that rare male who accepts that you neither meet the typical white male standard for female beauty, nor behave the way many people expect Chinese to behave. While I don’t want to promote the image of Chinese women as timid, confrontation-avoiding, agreeable, parent-obeying study-dorks who have an excessively feminine habit of giggling behind their hands, there is some factual basis for the legend.
Generally speaking, the white male who has a particular fondness for Asian women is not only attracted to the looks, but the character as well. At a training course in Utah, I was stared at by a gentleman who actually stepped forward to be introduced. He explained he had done his missionary work in China, and let me tell you, rarely have I seen such eager body language. He said something to me in Chinese and I looked at him in complete incomprehension, and asked, “What the hell are you saying?” Such words would never come out of the mouth of a good Chinese girl, Mormon or otherwise. I was pretty chilly and he sort of slunk off. I felt guilty about it later and went to look for him to try and be friendly (plus male attention is always flattering), but I never did find him.
Bananas are so screwed up, they screw themselves up. I’m hypocritical myself, I don’t find Asian men all that attractive; I like dark hair and eyes, but on a Caucasian or Jewish frame. I admit to having made respective assumptions about Chinese men as the women. But in practice I do try to keep color out of my consciousness. In university I was set up on a date with a Chinese guy by some cellmates errr dorm-mates. My fellow banana, spent most of the evening bitching about how his white friends had assumed he must want to date another Chinese, and how it was a semi-conscious conspiracy to keep us grouped together. I agreed it was flawed thinking, but since we were supposed to go to a party, why don’t we just do that and try to have a good time? Eventually he left. I suppose I can’t really blame him. I probably would have done the same thing in a slightly different situation.

So, what has life handed me thus far? I have been spontaneously asked out on a date by a relative stranger not more than 10 times in my life, and that’s a bitch. To add insult to injury, about half of ‘em were drunk at the time. Sometimes I wonder if I’m some sort of kook magnet. Crazy people (I’m talking genuine) like me automatically; I’m not sure why, perhaps because I don’t fear them and often genuinely like them. But we’re talking boyfriends, marriage material, life partners here, not friends.
Fortunately my ego has been partly salvaged by what I consider to be a most perfect-looking prize of the male species: black-haired, greenish-brown-eyed, very thin, and the right height, with whom I can not only talk about intelligent subjects, but also hop into bed and have a great time there too. Unfortunately we are also mortally morally opposed on a lot of other subjects, so perfection in its fullest has not yet been found…

Hi,

so welcome to the world of women, what makes you think it is any different being white in a world of white men. I wish you luck with your dark haired, green eyed, perfect height man who you can talk to and who will talk to you with respect and intelligence, and who you can jump in to bet with and still get up happy in the morning.

I have to admit that until recently I considered the words intelligent and men to be an oxymoron, but I have lately spent some time chatting lately and I know you have to wade you way through the piles of sex hungry and rude children, but when you get there, the discoveries are worth the journey.

Best of luck and if you are still around I would like it if you come back to me at some time, thank you.


Moondancer

Hi Moondancer,
I respectfully submit that it *is* different in that the chances of finding someone are distinctly smaller for the Asian American. Even in a severely drunken state most white guys could not mistake us for Claudia Schiffer or even Roseanne whatever her last name is.

What I've learned is *I* gotta personally stop being picky about looks. I used to not even look unless they looked skinny, dark haired, pale, used and abused. These days the smallness of the selection pool has made me look at blondes (shudder!) although reds are to me still a little weird looking.

Which is why the internet is better for meeting friends/lovers because it is one's lovely personality and intelligence level that is the main attraction.

The handsome lover is away on the other side of the country right now. The less we have sex, the more we behave like good friends. It's funny and annoying, but it makes me happy to know that we're not just meeting for sex. Sometimes choosing not to have sex makes me feel more powerful. Maybe that's something you know already, but it's new knowledge for me.

Gotta run, write back if you have a chance and inclination.

Hi
I agree with you that sometimes not having sex is a power thing for me.
And that drop-dead gorgeous guys are few and far between even if the gorgeous is in the eye of the beholder. But sometimes we have to remember that the not perfect guy's also are looking for love and are just a capable of giving it in return. In my experience, really gorgeous guys know it. So sometimes it is not a matter of lowering your standards but of digging deeper and finding the great person on the inside, when you do that you wont see him as anything but the great person he is.
Sometimes if you have, a friend as well as a lover that is a bonus because at different stages of your life you need both.
I wish you lots of success.

Absolutely true, all you said. To be kind, considerate, sensible, (name your preferred male adjective here), has nothing to do with the package, really. But it's really hard to get over less-than-pleasing aspects of the package sometimes. I have yet to be willing to be open to the idea of someone more than 40 lbs overweight, for example. But the thing is that such people are loveable, they have wives and girlfriends, and it's not important enough to the lady that she wants to reject that.

Most of the guys I'm physically attracted to are *not* standardly gorgeous and often don't think of themselves as particularly handsome. Which makes for better chances. (remember that old woody allen quote).

Thanks for the good wishes. You seem to be a wise person.