Tetsuro Shigematsu2013-05-23T07:49:53-04:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=tetsuro-shigematsuCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Tetsuro ShigematsuGood old fashioned elbow grease.No Asians In The Vienna Philharmonic? No Problem!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.27775062013-03-01T12:59:44-05:002013-05-01T05:12:01-04:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra,
I hear that Asians aren't allowed to play in your famed ensemble. I first learned this by listening to Jian Ghomeshi's guest on "Q," William Osborne -- an American composer based in Germany -- who has been advocating for greater diversity in the VPO for years now.
First off, as the unofficial-unelected-self-appointed-spokesman-for-all-Asians-everywhere, allow me to reassure you, as Asians... we get it.
If I bought tickets to see The Harlem Globetrotters, I wouldn't want to see a bunch of red-haired, freckled-faced, white boys. Ain't nobody got time for that! If I go to Hooters, I don't wanna be served by a dude! I mean where would it end? Animals demanding to perform at Cirque du Soleil?!
But let's face it, your PR problems aren't going away. As Osborne pointed out: you were the last orchestra in the world to admit women. And the fact that your history is so intimately intertwined with Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich isn't exactly helping.
It's also becoming increasingly difficult to claim that Asians aren't good enough musically. After all, fully a quarter of the students admitted to Vienna's famed University of Music and Performing Arts come from Japan, Korea and China. And given the shortage of qualified local Aryans, you've actually had to resort to hiring white-only foreigners.
Luckily for you, I have just the solution!
Have Asian musicians play in white-face. Think about it. Your patrons probably can't see so well. So why not have your Korean second violinist simply wear a platinum wig?
I can already feel you squirming. Who in HR is going to have THAT conversation? "Roosevelt Wang, your audition was exceptional, but how do you feel about colored contact lenses?"
Don't worry. I know kids like these. If you had the misfortune to be born to Asian parents who had classical music designs on you as a fetus, you never had a life. You never went to sleepovers. You missed your prom. In fact, you may still be a virgin!
Asian kids who spent 100,000+ hours weeping into their cellos would consider modifying their appearance to be a very small price to pay for a chance to play in the same hall where Mozart once conducted. Plus, lots of Asians are trying to look white anyhow. Kids from Tokyo all have rust colored hair, and epicanthic eyelid surgery is all the rage in Asia.
But what of those eagle-eyed patrons sitting in your first and second rows? What about the close intimacy of chamber music ensembles? No problem. Just increase the realism.
After all, we Asians are nothing if not determined. Even if it means going on YouTube to learn special effects makeup tricks to appear 10 years older, Asians will do whatever it takes to appear more convincingly white, and do our part to maintain the illusion of Germanic cultural supremacy.
Sincerely yours,
Tetsuro
P.S. I hear Yo-Yo Ma has an opening in his schedule. He's so nice, I'm sure he'd be delighted to stay out of the sun for you :)]]>Sh*t Asians Say When Whitey Isn't Aroundtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.20789342012-11-09T14:26:04-05:002013-01-09T05:12:01-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/finally went upstairs? Well, that's how we Asians feel when the last non-Asian person leaves the room. Once we have racial quorum, this is how we kick it...
First off, anyone with outstanding membership dues must settle up immediately or risk forfeiting their Asian Discount Card on the spot. This is deeply humiliating for Asians, but annual fees aren't cheap. However, a one-month grace period is automatically allotted to the first person who pays for lunch. Ever seen a couple of Asians fighting over the bill? That's because both their accounts were seriously past due.
ANGRY ASIAN MAN
Once we have that business out of the way, we'll kick things off by discussing the latest posts by our favorite blogger: Angry Asian Man AKA Phil Yu, who is our Edward R. Murrow, forever ready to callout racist BS like how yet another Hollywood movie has the audacity to exploit another Asian story and cast it with NON-Asian actors.
This topic never gets old because it never ceases to amaze. Imagine hearing they were going to cast an adaptation of Little Women with all male actors just because. WTF?!
Angry Asian Man is a blog that only Asian people are allowed to read. It's not password protected, but the site accesses your computer's webcam to assess the size of your epicanthic folds. You know, chubby eyelids? White people are only permitted to gaze at the website if their eyes remain closed. Genius, right?!
ALL WHITE PEOPLE LOOK THE SAME
Sometimes we'll confide in each other that we think white people all look the same. If we're in any setting where there is a glut of older, white, baby boomer men, like politics, business, or any place that uses electricity, they all begin to blur together, and what we see is The Man from Glad®.
OUR RACIST ENCOUNTERS THROUGHOUT THE WEEK
Eventually we'll vent about all the racist incidents we experienced in the past week. As in: "Where are you from? No, I mean where are you really from?" Implicit in these questions is the inference that even if our ancestors built the CN Railway, we will always be perpetual foreigners.
DIRTY PANTY VENDING MACHINE
As a Nihonjin who is an otaku of bukkake, (and shame on you if you know what that means) no one can outflank me in sheer perviness. At parties, I will highjack conversations into territory so taboo it would make the Marquis de Sade pull out his iPhone and pretend to write text messages.
But the moment some white guy broaches the dreaded Used-Panty-Vending Machines-in-Tokyo topic, (and they ALWAYS do), I say nothing. It's not that I don't have an opinion or a hilarious anecdote to share, but I know as an Asian joining in, this is akin to a black man doing an impression of a monkey at an all-white party.
"The Code" prohibits me as a self-respecting Azn from reinforcing negative stereotypes about fellow Asians.
Only under the snow dome of silence with fellow Asians do the gloves come off. The way we joke about all the dogs we kidnapped and ate, the car accidents we caused, or the cephalopods we deflowered, and all the other racist meconium that can't be printed here would blow your WASPY cortex.
CONCLUSION
All of which isn't to say we don't love white people. In fact, two out of three Asian women agree: white men are preferable. But that doesn't mean we don't need our space, the way Walmart employees will always need their break room.
So the next time you see a group of Asians who pause in conversation as you approach, let 'em know you're wise to their ways by throwing down a couple of twenties on the table -- cancelling all grace periods on delinquent fees -- then lean in and growl: "Your Asian Discount feels to me a lot more like a WHITE surcharge! "
Jaws will drop. Then moonwalk your way out the door LIKE A BOSS.]]>Bad Daddy vs. Father Of The Yeartag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.20316562012-10-30T12:17:04-04:002012-12-30T05:12:01-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/don't tell you about parenthood is how excruciatingly boring it can be to spend time with your own kids. And mine are funny! And cute!
I know they are because my wife posts photos of them on Facebook, and I see the number of "likes" they get from all the way upstairs.
When I tried to buy myself a World's-Greatest-Dad mug, I was informed my name was on a "no-buy list." Where did I go wrong? I think it was the way I was raised...
SAMURAI DAD
My dad is Japanese, old school Japanese. He never took me fishing, played catch, or all those other things white dads on TV do, yet I still turned out GREAT. Sure, I ended up spending my 20s seeking the approval of patriarchal father figures -- some of whom tried to exploit me sexually, but that's NORMAL! Am I right ladies?
RETIREMENT PLAN
Another thing my father never taught me was financial literacy. As such, here's my retirement plan: One day I'm going to visit my son or daughter for lunch and just never leave. But for this plan to work, my kids will actually have to like me.
Fear of being homeless may not be the noblest of reasons, but I know I'm not alone. So for all the parents out there who want their kids to like them without really trying, I give you...
BAD DAD HACKS FOR FAKING INTEREST IN YOUR KIDS
Bored reading bedtime stories to your children? Just pretend these kids aren't your own, but belong to a super hot single parent you're trying to impress. Waaaaay better performance.
Buy your kids only the toys that you were deprived of as a child. For me, that was Star Wars. My childhood lightsaber was a cardboard wrapping paper tube. Two whacks and it went flaccid. My kids on the other hand have every lightsaber imaginable, from the telescopic cheapies, to official lightsaber replicas with authentic LucasFilm® sound effects. Sure they cry when I wallop them too hard, but painful is the path of the Jedi.
Watch YouTube videos together. Sit 'em on your lap, find a playlist of kid-friendly videos, hit play, and enjoy a nice long nap.
TOY TRAIN IN SPACE
That's how I found Toy Train in Space, a two-minute video about a father who launches his son's favorite toy train into space using a weather balloon, an HD camera, and GPS, and returns it safely to earth.
This manages to be a mind-blowing DIY stunt, AND heartwarming. No wonder it has millions of views. We play it so often, I even tweeted about it.
Soon after, I noticed a "Ron Fugelseth" quietly followed me on Twitter. I checked his profile -- it's that Toy-Train-in-Space dad! We chatted back and forth until I suggested a Skype call. Maybe Ron could teach me how to launch a weather balloon/toy and my family could do it as a Sunday afternoon activity.
Ron could not have been nicer as he explained every step. I won't pretend I understood it all, but suffice it to say it took six months of planning, plus "two months of tracking the wind with this balloon tracking website, just to find the right day."
I'm thinking, we Asians may be the smartest people in the world, but me dumdum compared to this guy. So I asked, "What's your advice for dads like me who aren't as talented as you, much lazier, and who will never make the biggest YouTube video of all time?"
Ron replied:
"To be honest, my kids don't really get what I did. They just thought, hey 'I love balloons. Let's make a big balloon! Wow! Or let's go run through corn together. Wow!' It was all these mini times that I got to spend with them that they loved. We go walk the train tracks by my house. They love that! It doesn't take much to be a good dad. Just do stuff with your kids. They love anything!"
After I hung up, I thought not only is he a gifted filmmaker, AND Father Of The Year, he's wiser than Yoda! I can't decide whether I want to be Ron Fugelseth, or strike him down with my FX Lightsaber.
I think what I'll do is rename my five-year-old Jedi apprentice "Lord Fugelsith" and challenge him to a duel. That way, I can take out my frustration on Ron, AND be a better father at the same time. Sure, there'll be tears along the way, but painful is the path of the Jedi.
Follow Ron at @ronfugelseth.]]>Why Asians Aren't Dancing in the Streets Gangnam Styletag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.19442942012-10-07T21:51:53-04:002012-12-07T05:12:02-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/Gangnam Style is one catchy-ass tune, the most infectiously, dancelicious song since C+C Music Factory's Everybody Dance Now. But unless you look like me, or live in South Korea, we Asians find white enthusiasm for this monster hit suspect.
The Korean entertainer Psy (short for Psycho) looks an awful lot like William Hung. You remember that lovable dork from American Idol who sang "She Bangs"?
Non-Asians freakin' LOVED William Hung. Not only did they love him, they LOVED that they LOVED him. And when fandom morphs into this irrational meta-love -- when we love that we love something - that's telling.
For example, men will publically profess they find actress Helen Mirren sexy because they secretly think it'll earn them brownie points for finding a 67-year old female do-able, but also because subconsciously they believe it atones for their much deeper furtive attraction to girls barely into their teens. SAME deal.
The kind of people who loved William Hung were the ones thinking: "I may not have any Asian friends, but I can't be racist, because I LOVE this guy! He's HILARIOUS!" So if Psy is the doppelganger of William Hung, then Hung's big daddy is The Donger.
Remember Long Duk Dong? He was the ridiculous Asian foreign exchange student who lusted impotently after Molly Ringwald in the John Hughes movie Sixteen Candles.
But why be Captain Bringdown whinging about racism when we could be dancing to the the biggest Asian hit single since the 1960's Sukiyaki? K-pop is surging not just in South Korea, but all over Asia. So yes, it is high-time a Seoul singer finally crossed over, but why Psy and not Rain, that other K-pop mega star? Maybe its partly because Rain looks like this...
If one of Rain's many Korean hit singles went into heavy rotation worldwide Gangnam Style I think white women would be intrigued to have their lady bits excited by a singer who didn't look like Justin Timberlake or Justin Bieber or Ice Tea or Ice Cube. Getting drenched by Rain might be akin to the first time eating sushi; "This is different, but I think I LIKE it!"
But believe it or not, that kind of thing is not allowed to happen. Apparently, there's an unwritten rule that states the Asian man onscreen can't get the girl. Jackie Chan's love interest in Tuxedo was Jennifer Love Hewitt -- but no kiss. Same deal with Jet Li and Aaliyah in Romeo Must Die, not even a chaste peck on the cheek.
This is why Asians feel so queasy about Ken Jeong starring in The Hangover movie franchise. I've been following "Dr. Ken" from his days of doing standup at The Apollo Theatre. His set was killer. But if the Asian price of admission to Hollywood stardom is wearing a prosthesis that makes his penis the size of a grain of rice, than you can keep your red carpet.
Photo by Peggy Sirota/GQ
If you haven't seen the movies, a recent GQ photo spread will suffice. I actually love these photos, because this pictorial so perfectly illustrates mainstream culture's no-go-zones for Asian men: "Make us laugh, just don't touch our women."
In the white supremacist fantasy club that is mainstream culture, Asians are only allowed past the velvet rope if our women promise to "love you long time" or if there is ZERO chance that an Asian male will seduce away your women, hence Long Duk Dong, William Hung, Ken Jeong, and now (sigh) Psy.
So when you and your Asian friend are driving along and Gangnam Style comes on the radio, go ahead and pump up the volume, but just don't expect us to give you congratulatory high-fives. I, for one, am going to sit this track out, and wait for the next K-pop star to come along. If he looks less like a shumai pork dumpling, and a little more like me, then I'll be dancing in my seat.
]]>Want New Boobies? A Handful of Advicetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.18814942012-09-14T12:00:24-04:002012-11-14T05:12:01-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/
@tweetsuro like many Asian women I'm not so busty. Been saving up for implants, debating between a C or D cup. Am only 5'3 but I figure go big or go home. Thoughts?
Dear A-Cup Asian,
As a man who doesn't have breasts, I should point out that I have zero expertise on this matter. But given how that has never stopped any man in the history of the world from weighing in on topics he knows nothing about, here goes!
Do you know what kind of breasts men like? The kind with nipples.
Because no matter what, sex with a woman is still sex with a woman. You see, men think of sex the way women think of chocolate; even if it's low-quality, melted/re-solidified/chalky (the kind you find in discount bins in pharmacy aisles) bad chocolate is still chocolate!
Now I'm not saying big breasts don't have a place in our culture. Obviously there are legions of males who are fixated on seeking out mammaries the size of their own heads. But that's because they are subconsciously attempting to relive fond memories of breast-feeding until they were old enough to drive.
But we are so constantly bombarded with imagery of buxom women, it's gotten to the point, where even if we don't personally prefer that body type, boobvertizing has us trained to stare like Pavlovian dogs. But here's the thing; what men are bombarded with, and what they personally want are two very different things.
Just as women enjoy looking at the abtastic men of "True Blood," or drool over the strippers in "Magic Mike", we men understand that when you read 50 Shades of Grey, you're not mentally casting us as Christian Grey, but when you close the book, it's schlubs like us who get the girl.
Perhaps, A-Cup Girl, your answer lies in what's hot in porn.
As someone who has seen a LOT of it, (what can I say? I'm Japanese) I can report that porn has a fashion all its own. But unlike the vicissitudes of Versace where the look changes every season, the fashion of porn moves along at a glacial pace.
From the Venus of Villendorf, to Marylyn Monroe, depictions of women have long favored the buxom. But here's the thing, not even Pamela Anderson looks like Pamela Anderson anymore.
Our B.C. playmate opted for breast reduction because she realized the look she popularized expired along with the augmented careers of the Barbi Twins. Sorry ladies, but if the look you are going for is bleach blonde with the bolt-on-tits, that look is soooo 1990s.
So what look is "in" in the world of porn? If you think looking like a Suicide Girl -- short bangs and inked bodies -- is all the rage, you'd be wrong again.
But if you must know what your boyfriend/husband/son is looking at, chances are they're looking at a site that is part of one of two networks, BangBros or Reality Kings. I'll spare you the details, but just as the latter name implies, reality is king.
What's that? Your man doesn't look at porn? That's possible, but what it really means is instead of looking at it passively on his computer, he's actively writing & directing X-rated films in his head. Wouldn't you love to see THAT movie?
Here's a sneak preview. A key component in male fantasy is plausibility. Men lust after the people in their lives who they believe might screw them; that barrista, the co-worker. Ladies, wanna know who your man fantasizes about? Your best friend. Yup.
And if your best friend has the following attitude then guaranteed she is starring in many an afternoon reverie. If she has matured to the point where she's like yeah, this is my body, so what if it's not perfect, that's your problem, deal with it, that level of self-assurance is soooo sexy. Please disregard us as we crawl on our hands and knees to lick your three-inch pumps.
So yes, according to the pervy world of porn, the body type that's in right now is yours. And creepy as it may sound, there's likely a seemingly perfect gentlemen in your life who meditates intensely to the memory of it.
So A-Cup Asian, as for the question of whether to "go big or go home"? Um, yeah, go home.
Life or death questions for the sagacious Shiggy? Don't seek professional help! Follow me on twitter @tweetsuro.]]>Eating Sushi? You Are Doing it Wrongtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.18340052012-08-29T09:31:43-04:002012-12-21T23:43:54-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/Especially if you're Asian.) Actually, you'll probably mess that up too. Just keep reading.
CHOPSTICKS
Are you one of those people who rub their chopsticks together? Do you proudly explain to your rube aunt from Kelowna that this is how you get rid of the splinters? Dude, look around you. This isn't Quest for Fire. You are not Survivorman Les Stroud, trying to get some kindling to smoke. You are in a sushi-ya on Broadway.
"But what about the splinters?"
The next time you're in a Japanese restaurant, conduct this experiment. Unsheath your 'sticks, wrap your lips around them, now joust with your uvula. If you so much get the slightest pinprick of a sliver, I will personally take you to the emergency room... in Kyoto, Japan.
When you rub your chopsticks, understand that you're using flag semaphore to signal to the world that this joint is so low rent they can't even afford splinter-less chopsticks.
If you can't refrain, just do it beneath the table really fast. If your fist pounds against the underside, so be it. With any luck, people will assume you're engaging in roughly equivalent socially inappropriate behavior. Don't worry. The Japanese obsession with dining etiquette is exceeded only by their sexual perversity.
SOY SAUCE
You use too much. I don't care if you like the way it tastes. Go raise your blood pressure at McDonald's. In a sushi-ya you are dealing with artists who are easily offended.
Tell me something. When you're out at a fancy restaurant, and the waiter places the plate before you, do you automatically reach for the salt? Because when you do, you reveal that you were raised in a barn. Your actions are saying, "I'm just gonna assume that this dish -- that someone went to school to learn how to prepare -- will be so insipid, so bland, I have to make it snow sodium before I shove it down my gullet."
Do you think the chef in the kitchen sampled the soup and said, "Hmmm, could use a little more salt, but I'm going to let that genius at table five add the finishing touch."
You like salt. I get it. But don't disfigure the sushi chef's creation by testing the absorbency of the rice like you're re-enacting a tampon commercial. You're better off sipping Kikkoman from your drinking glass, and passing it off as a pint of Guinness.
Now I can already hear some of you whining: "Leave me alone. I'll eat it the way I like."
Sure, go ahead. Be the ugly American. Be the ugly Canadian. But the next time you're sitting in the subway, and the fresh-off-the-boat refugee next to you removes their socks, and starts cutting their toe nails, before you shoot them a dirty look, just remember; that's you!
DOING IT RIGHT
Okay, enough criticism. Here's how to do it. Take a seat at the counter. When Hiroshi (yes, that's his stage name, because he's actually Korean) presents you with a platter...
Don't move. Don't reach for the 'sauce. Don't break the 'sticks. Just stare.
You want to wear the haunted expression of an Incan high priest who is about to sacrifice a gorgeous virgin on the altar; a mixture of wonder and sorrow. Contemplate the koan: "Too beautiful to eat, too beautiful not to."
Suck wind through your teeth, slowly shake your head. Look constipated, as if you are trying to push something out. Finally blurt out, "It... is... EXCELLENT!"
As you partake, close your eyes, and quietly mutter obscenities under your breath. If talking dirty at yellowtail doesn't sound like your cup of tea, try weeping softly. Nothing says "your fatty tuna is soooooo buttery" quite like mascara running down your cheeks. In fact, any unmitigated emotional expression is game. I've seen salarymen in Tokyo slam their fists into the counter shouting "Bakayaro!" (Translation: Dumb-ass motherf***er!)
In fact, skip your meds, and let all your personalities come out. As you careen maniacally from hysterical cackling to growling panegyric lust, don't be surprised if your sushi chef starts plating you super-exotic dishes that are waaaay off menu like puffer-fish gonads or marinated Pygmy foreskins (these are okay to chew loudly).
When you leave, bow a little as you walk backwards, as though you shart yourself and you don't want anyone to see, (bonus points if you actually did). You don't have to speak Japanese, but seem apologetic and embarrassed at having been lulled into revealing so much of your hidden personalities.
The next time you come in, it'll be like Cheers, where everybody knows your name. And as you belly up to the counter and you see someone rubbing chopsticks, resist the impulse to suggest suicide. That American tourist is bound to misinterpret your good intentions. Leave it to the professionals by sharing this article.
]]>Chinese Sex Scandal Shows The World Needs More Group Sextag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.18072782012-08-19T14:48:38-04:002012-12-14T15:32:44-05:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/"The Wanger" Minsheng did by claiming my image was photoshopped in. Why? Because HuffPost readers can tell when something has been 'shopped.
So let me say for the record: that black bra I'm wearing is not mine. I borrowed that silky garment from Wang Yu's spouse. (Being the wife of the deputy secretary of the Youth League Committee of Hefei University in Anhui province has its perks.)
Yes, the whole Internet may be giggling over our cheesy group sex photos. Go ahead and laugh, but you'd be missing the bigger picture.
The world needs more group sex. Now I'm not talking about that drunken threesome back in college, where two guys who were once the best of friends, accidently crossed swords in the heat of passion and haven't spoken since. ("Wolfgang Alarcon", I sent you two FB friendship requests. The balls are in your court.)
No, I'm talking about high-level, Eyes Wide Shut sex fests. How people of power get off says a lot about them. Let's look at recent history shall we? George W. developed a hard-on for Saddam, because the strongman from Ouja tried to f*&% his daddy. So those weird Freudian overtones end up getting sublimated into the impulse to bomb the Middle East back to the Stone Age.
But when Bill Clinton became frustrated, did he reach for the red button? No, he called in Ms. Lewinsky to play him some Air on the G String, (Baby's got Bach). Who would you rather have holding the nuclear codes? A leader who can get off by being blown, or a leader who can only get off by blowing things up?
Look how Japan evolved. They went from being maniacally focused on Imperial expansion. Now? Tentacle sex. What would you rather get hit in the face by? Kamikaze or Bukkake?
Also for the sake of you my dear readers, in the name of journalistic excellence I have studied these photos very closely. True to Communist Party's progressive history of striving for gender equality, I'm happy to report that for every act of fellatio, there was an equal opposite act of cunnilingus. Apparently, the Chinese favor other numbers besides 88.
MAD DIPLOMATIC SKILLZ
Also consider the logistical challenges of getting just one person into bed. Most spouses can't even negotiate a little bit of conjugal action on their birthdays. Now multiply that difficulty exponentially. In fact, I dare you to turn to your partner right now and propose an orgy this weekend with your co-workers. See how far you get. And while you'll get slapped upside the head, these folks pulled it off. Clearly, these are highly persuasive public servants with some mad diplomatic skillz!
But the biggest tragedy of all is now these fine folks are in serious trouble. All because they are in violation of an obscure statute forbidding "group licentiousness." They face up to five years in prison (where group sex never takes place).
This is a chance for Canada to do the right thing. I call upon the citizens of this great nation to grant these Chinese officials amnesty and safe harbor, and send a message to the rest of the world. While our neighbors to the south try to repeal their gay marriage acts and despite this very conservative Harper government, Canada continues to shine like a city on a hill, with our universal healthcare and same-sex marriage rights, we remain the Europe of North America.
In fact, I'd like to invite my hotel room friends to come directly to Vancouver.
We can coronate them as marshals in next year's Pride Parade, give them VIP passes to Sin City events, and hand them their own kiosk at Richmond's Night Market where they can hawk DVDs of their hotel-room masterpiece, The Peep Hole's Republic of China.
We could even send the newly minted Chinese-Canadians abroad to be our nation's sexual ambassadors. Imagine a bed full of Yoko Onos and their men imploring the rest of us to make love, not war, and hey baby, give my piece a chance.]]>Everything You Wanted to Ask an Asian but Were Afraid Totag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.17785492012-08-16T07:05:17-04:002012-10-16T05:12:28-04:00Tetsuro Shigematsuhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tetsuro-shigematsu/
Wasn't it Maclean's magazine that asked if Canadian universities were "Too Asian?" Sure that was a boneheaded, poorly researched article, but the last time you were driving along No. 3 Road in Richmond on your way to Ikea (as a white person where else would you be going?), are you telling me you never thought "OMG, there is a lot of motherf*&#ing Chinese people here!"
Well, my friend, I'm here to tell you... it is OK. The first step in putting down that burden of white guilt is to admit you have become powerless over such thoughts -- and that your interior life has become unmanageable.
Sunlight is the best disinfectant. So let's bring such festering notions out in the open, shall we? Maybe you've been secretly wondering "Are those Hong Kong gazillionaires going to just keep buying up more and more Vancouver real estate to the point where they will serve as Evil Overlords of the Lower Mainland?"
The answer is yes. Now, let's be clear. I am NOT gloating. I'm screwed too. As a Japanese-Canadian, I'm getting exactly zero per cent of this action. And for what my people did to their people during WWII? Let's just say, no one is going to make this son of a Kamikaze into an honorary Han.
That means you and I are in the same boat. The difference being, as a crafty Asian, I have a better chance of muddling through. I figure I've watched enough Russell Peters' routines I can fake a pretty good Chinese accent. I'll survive. You? Probably not. Unless you count slaving as a barista to pay rent on a basement suite in Abbottsford as a fate less worse than death.
So in the spirit of How to Survive a Zombie Uprising, allow me to be your guide. My qualifications? Just look at my photo! I am so Asian, maybe not the right kind, but while we're still being candid here... go on, admit it! You could never tell the difference! Ah, confession feels good, doesn't it?
But the question is, my non-Asian friend, can you trust me? As an inscrutable Asian, can you look into my inky black eyes and detect a glimmer of faithfulness? Can you reach across the racial divide and find in me someone you can trust? The answer is a most emphatic "Yes." Why? Because deep down, I'm actually more white than most people.
That's right. I'm a banana. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside. Bonafides? I was born in London. Not that 'burb east of Adelaide. London, England, motherf*&#ers.
When I play white person bingo, I score 11 out of 10. "Not possible," you say? Right now, I'm wearing a Lululemon V-neck, playing podcasts of This American Life on shuffle mode on my iPod, as I download Lena Dunham's Girls on BitTorrent, because I've finished watching HBO's Game of Thrones, all while typing this on a 2011 MacBook Pro, while secretly jonesing for the new Retina model.
I'm so white I find Asian girls attractive -- not because they're my own kind but because my inner Rice King thinks Japanese accents are so "kawaii!" I'm so white, I have a Chinese character tattooed on my arm, and I'm not 100 per cent sure what it means.
If that doesn't convince you, I was a friggin' network CBC Radio One host. Before they let you though the front door of CBC Vancouver's studios they make you walk though a body scanner while listening to Anne Murray's greatest hits. I passed so hard they handed me a national show which I promptly used to put Ashley MacIsaac's Celtic fiddlin' into heavy rotation. Your qualifications? Apart from your good looks, you read the Huffington Post? Pffft.
Okay, now that we've established I'm whiter than you, the salient point here is the fact that I am willing to be your Asian friend. (That Asian girl in your group who secretly feels uncomfortable around other Asians? Yeah, you know, the one you feel so smug about because she makes your little gang look so cosmopolitan? Um, yeah. She doesn't count.)
So it looks like I am all you got. Trust me, and before you know it you'll be ordering bubble tea like a Honger AND getting the "Asian discount."
And so in the spirit of solidarity, allow me to extend an olive branch in the form of choices for my next column. That's right. You get to set the agenda. Which of the following questions most piques your interest?
So there you have it. Based on the responses I get, I'll answer one of the above, and start what may be the beginnings of a beautiful intercultural friendship. Seriously, if you don't talk back to me, you will leave me no choice but to assume you're being a big fat racist.]]>
Photo by Peggy Sirota/GQ
