"Wow, You're So Exotic"

Hey guys!

So, I realize it's a bit ironic for me to do a rant-type post after just going on about self-improvement, but, like I said in my last post, old habits tend to die hard, and I am a very stubborn individual. Also old, so you know, old dogs and new tricks don't go together. But, I have justified this post in convincing myself it is for the greater good. Also, it just really, desperately needs to be addressed. I was going to do a video on this topic simply because my mouth moves faster than my fingers, as do my thoughts, but my background is kind of shady, and the whole video would be an hour long rant. This has the semblance of more structure, I think.

For those who don't know, I am biracial. My mom is Vietnamese, and my dad is Canadian (read: a whole mishmash of cultures where there is some percentage of Scandinavian and some percentage of Aboriginal and some percentage of Ukrainian. I think.) I only offer this information because it is pertinent to the discussion and gives me some amount of authority on the topic. Otherwise, my race shouldn't - and doesn't - really matter.

Since reaching adulthood and branching off into a world outside of my parents' circle of influence, I have been confronted more now than ever about my race. From questions like "What are you?" and "Where are you from?" they get more and more intrusive depending on the person asking them.
These are all usually asked before my name is even known or is usually the next question after "What's your name?" To go up to a person who looks, and I'm purposely being generic here, white, and ask them where they are from is laughable and ridiculous. Well, the same thing when I'm asked where I'm from. I am from Canada, I was born here. I have never permanently moved anywhere else - I had a two year stint in Ontario, if you recall from my earlier posts. I am a human being, that is what I am. More specifically, then, if that doesn't satisfy the question, I am a biologically female human being. Not a martian, surprise! I am exactly what you are, so when I am asked, "What are you" you can only imagine my shock, amusement, and annoyance. The other person's reaction is even more laughable when I answer that I am human and that I am Canadian.

People say"what are you" or "where are you from" as a means to be more politically correct, but what they don't realize is that to even ask the question damns them. I won't fault their curiosity, but at the same time, why does it matter what my race is? I am fully aware that I maybe don't look like a "typical" white girl (again I am being very general and loose with that term). I am also very self conscious of that fact and when it is pointed out to me, I feel even more awkward. Which I shouldn't. I am very proud of who I am and where my parents are from and I love my culture. Both of them.

Being mixed race is hard enough as it is - you feel like you don't belong anywhere - without having people interrogate you about it.

That lengthy backstory brings me to what I really wanted to discuss which is the use of the word "exotic" when referring to someone "not from here". For the purpose of this post, we will use "not from here" to refer to people who are not physically different (either in skin tone, hair texture, eye shape, etc.).
The other night while I was at work, near the end of my shift, a single middle aged gentleman(ish) walked in - he's clearly "from here" - and as I approached him, he asked about my hair texture (naturally curly) to which he seemed to enjoy - apparently he has a "thing" for curly haired gals (ew...) - and then asked about my race - again using the standard "where are you from" line - to which I replied as nicely as possible - because despite hating my job I still need my job - that my mother is from Vietnam and my dad is from here with some sort of Scandinavian background - hence my accursed curls. He widened his eyes in delight, ooohed and ahhhed over my race and proclaimed me "exotic".

PS - Dude, if you're reading this by some gross chance and sick twist of fate, I might work in a restaurant, but I still have a small miniscule shred of dignity left that I guard like a starving, rabid dog over a masticated bone. In other words, I don't want/need a sugar daddy. Yet. And when/if I do need one, I certainly won't be asking you to step up.

Upon being called exotic, I nearly threw up in my mouth. But, because I am great at my job, forced a tight lipped smile and proceeded to avoid eye contact and approaching his vicinity for the duration of my shift. I am not "exotic". I am not some imported rarity. I am a person, not a thing, and I think that is my biggest issue when I am faced with this question of race. I feel like a thing. An exotic thing that is there only to be admired and ooohed and ahhed over.
The problem with this is that I am reduced to being a thoughtless inanimate object. Which sort of sets back decades of feminist movements and advances. Hey, Emma Watson, speak up for the "exotic" people, too, okay?

When someone is reduced to being just "exotic" my ideas, dreams, pursuits, goals, and thoughts are irrelevant. Because I am exotic. I am like a Siberian Tiger placed in a zoo. Just there to be looked at and cared for and never free. I deserve to be more than caged. I deserve to be more than "exotic". Or a car. Cars are also described as exotic. I am, sadly, not a transformer.

This is a problem not just with strangers, but also in my sad pursuit of love. Boys only want me because I am exotic, men only want to creep on me, and I am left stranded in the middle, wanting neither. I deserve respect.

Not really, but you get the idea....

And that is something I thought was my right as a human being. But I guess in the eyes of mainstream "from here" society, all I will ever be is "exotic".

Love and Light,

A. Bean

PS - Leave your thoughts, comments, and experiences below! Am I alone in feeling this way? Have you ever been called exotic or has your race ever been questioned?