I’ve been very self-conscious of the fact that I’m not white.
It’s the first thing I notice going anywhere in London.
I walk into a store, and I see that all the sales people are white.
I walk into a pub, and I see that everyone is white.
I walk into a bar, and my first thought is, everyone is white.
Nasty had his birthday party last night, and I walk into the room and I thought, oh, they’re all white.
Not that there’s anything wrong with it.
It’s a fleeting thought that lasts only for a second. But it’s a thought.
I guess it just takes some getting used to, being a minority.
Sometimes, I actually find myself looking for a Chinese-lookalike.
I’d look around a pub and see if there’s any other Chinese person around.
For what? I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ll go up and talk to them…
I’d go into town and see more Chinese people.
And when I spot one, I’d subconciously be excited.
At the same time, there’s also a part of me that expect THEM to be excited about seeing ME.
But of course they’re not, and I sink a little.
Believe it or not, I somehow expected something special when I saw that the lady at HSBC was Asian. But she spoke with such a strong English accent I couldn’t understand half of what she was saying.
And that’s when I sank a little. Again.
And that’ll happen everytime I see a Chinese-lookalike.
I’d like to think that one of them would jump up and down and run up for an embrace at the sight of me.
Maybe that’s sort of what I feel like doing sometimes.
Nevermind the fact that they could be Koreans/Japanese/Malaysians/whatever. I somehow have it in my head that just because we all share the same hair and skin colour, that gives us this huge bonding power…
Except that they’re probably more English than English and all I get are cold hard stares. Woops.