In 2011, in the happier days of this blog. anonygirl, who claimed to be a white girl dating an AMWF Hapa, gave me some advice.
“Look, I know you’re likely just going to shoot this down, but if the blonde still isn’t dating anybody, you should try to be “serious” with her, if only just for a moment, an hour. “Listen, I really like you, and I’d like to talk with you. Let me buy you coffee,” something like that. If she says yes, congrats, go on a date. Suspend your self hatred for long enough to enjoy yourself and actually talk to her, drop the bullshit and just talk. Tell her about your dad being white. Whatever. Get personal. Stop acting like a character, hell, maybe even tell her about it, ask her (a real live white girl) what she thinks of this whole thing. Write a furtively hopeful blog post about it.”
Now on the face of it, that is the stupidest advice possible. For a brief moment of time, I was able to stay above my Hapa melancholy, by forgetting who I was. By pretending to be someone I was not. By hiding my Hapa angst, and being happy. Those days are long gone now. I’m now far lower than I was in 2011, when people already thought I was unhealthily depressed. Rather 2011 was the peak in happiness of my life. I had just come down off my 1st blonde girl, and there were more happy moments with white girls waiting in the future. Peaceful, gentle moments, in which we laughed together. In which we were just 2 people, talking to each other. And I could for an instance forget the monster I really was. I could hope that maybe there was a moment she saw some good in me. Perhaps I will write about some of these instances in the future. To show that I was not always hiding in my basement. That I was out there for people, but it taught me these lessons. Perhaps like Obama, who combined all his white girlfriends into one composite girlfriend, I will do the same. Of course they were not my girlfriends or even my friends. For I’m the son of a White dad and Asian mom, and not a Black dad and white mom.
I would never have disturbed her happy blonde world, with my Eurasian angst. I have some basic decency. She wasn’t born into a hate despised race. Its not her fault, I was born of wmaf. She had nothing to do with it. Why should this be dropped on her head? These are the problems for anonymous internet commentators to dwell over. Not her. She doesn’t need to be troubled by me. She deserved nothing but amusement and merriment, at my hands.
I wish I could have poured all this out to a real human being somewhere. Other than my parents. It could never be a real
conversation with them. Obviously they had a staked interest in wmaf. It was more a personal attack on their marriage, than honest discussion.
But no one else, would ever have ears to listen to something like this. And I wouldn’t burden anyone, I actually liked with it. I won’t disturb her happy world, with my Eurasian hell. She has nothing to do with it. Lets keep it that way.
anonygirl told me to ask Lotte’s opinion on all this. I don’t know what Lotte, would have said. Honestly, I don’t to know. I wouldn’t want to disturb her image of me. I was happy and confident with her. And there was not so much to fear. I had just come into port from stormy suicidal waters, and the black storms of depression lay in the future. And this was a moment of calm, in which I could do whatever I wanted, since I had nothing to fear or lose.
People didn’t consider me Asian when I was with Lotte. This guy was shocked to hear it, and said he thought I was Italian. And that was the highest compliment that could be paid to me during those better days. I thought against gravity, I could outrun my Hapaness and find happiness.
I know now that it was an impossible dream.
I have a very beautiful letter from a precious white lovely, written in 2012. I wanted to suicide with this letter at the time. This could have been my Young Werther moment. SEML was behind me and I had almost forgotten about it. I was just a man. A universal man. I might as well have been German like Werther. I didn’t need to be defined by these Hapa issues. In the suicide wave after Werther, some young men, did not even bother to write out their own suicide notes. They just put on Werther’s blue coat, turned to the page in the book for his suicide note, and then blew their brains out. So unoriginal. So beautiful. So universal. Those days are gone for me. I’m no longer a universal man. I’m defined by my own particularities. Race, specifically, sadly.
I could write her back. Tell her that I was not the boy, she thought she knew. How desperately unhappy I really am. One time I gave her an opening to ask for what I was. I ignored her question, and gave her no answer. Its not the 1st time, I had shunned such a question from a pretty white girl. I could not let them know all the pain, behind any answer. Nor did I have the right lie. I didn’t call them racist, white devils, for even encroaching on such private questions. And so the only proper answer is to give none. To refuse the question.
And so it is a stupid idea to ever talk to a girl about these issues. They don’t want to hear about it. Nor could they ever truly
understand. And yet the reason I’m revisiting an old comment from 2011, is because a part of me now, wishes I could. As impossible as it is. But this is just craving pity. This is not showing the strength of character, I needed then, and shall need in the future. I will never again touch this past.
At least, from my lowest depths, I was able to come back from suicide, and win the happiest moments of my life. And maybe to you they are nothing. But to me as a Hapa they are everything. And if I had suicided then, everything would have been better. To have died with beauty, love and romantic heartbreak. Instead of the racial, biological, misery that enchains me now. It was an enchanted world. Even if a full year after I had already written SEML.
Its funny. My last post on SEML, was about how I had settled all my WMAF problems, by lying that I had an Asian dad and white mom. This was originally from an email I sent to Natalie, I met her online, and she was interested in helping me through some of my Eurasian problems. Perhaps I will go into our correspondence in a future post, as she was present at the formation of this blog. Although she never knew about it.
The funny thing is, I never had a chance to use the AMWF line. Except with middle aged white men, who ended up seeing me with my WMAF parents anyway.
But I never had the chance or opportunity to use it on my peers or a white girl. And maybe its for the best. The barrage of “what are you?” “where are you from?” questions, have not disturbed me so much in recent years. And I never even had to tell people I was an AMWF Hapa. Maybe they did, just see a person in me. Wouldn’t that be nice. I wouldn’t even care about rejection, if I was rejected as a human being, a person, a man. And not as a Eurasian.
But obviously, I don’t believe that is the case. I don’t believe we live in a post-racial society. I believe that everyone sees the Eurasianess in me. Perhaps it hasn’t always been so simple. I never had a single racist incident in college. But I believe what I read online. I’ve never had a personal bad experience with an Asian woman, and yet I write of them in disgust in my blog, because of statistics and internet anecdotes. I’ve never had a white girl openly reject me based on race. But you can credit me that one, since it is not too naive to believe they wouldn’t say it to my face. A lot of Asian men online, claim that white women are very open about saying it to their faces. I believe what I read online. And in a future post, I will explain my methodology of why I do.
This was a rambling post. It is the closest I shall come to following anonygirl’s advice. It is holding a conversation about the issues most dear to me, with those most dear with me. Even if it is all in my head.
I mostly stayed away from personal issues in 2011. But what does it matter now? All is lost. Its all in the past now. There wont be any more personal issues for me. I’m no longer a person. There are no longer characters in the story of my life. I will never be at home with myself. The times where I faked happiness are far behind me now.