An Asian Manifesto BY SAMANTHA TOH
Disclaimer: All is said in good humour. Please take everything with a bag of salt.
Part 1: Prologue The afternoon was sunny and I was munching away on my lunch, when a couple of girls from my class began making strange gestures in my direction. At first I thought they had been overcome by some peculiar hay fever around their eyes. Then it hit me. They were laughing at me. They were stretching their eyes out into that slanted shape associated with Asian people. They were mocking me. I was desperate to blend with the crowd, so having my otherwise decent classmates tease me about my physical appearance forced me to rethink who I was. I wasn’t someone who should be laughed at, looked at as if I was different. I was just like every other Australian kid. And so sparked my years-long attempt at transforming into an archetypal Aussie.
Part 2: The Assimilation Attempt Granted, I didn’t have the blonde tresses of some of my friends. I was, nonetheless, determined to fit in. I devoted my energy and time into becoming more Australian than Australian. I started incorporating the Australian flag into my wardrobe, donning an Aussie bandana on days I felt particularly patriotic. I forced my family to brave the sun in the name of a golden tan and a good ol’ barbie out on the lawn (with nothing less than “Waltzing Matilda” in stereo sound around us). I spent countless nights watching Julia Gillard speeches so as to perfect my crisp ocker accent. I had to show the world I was the epitome of what it meant to be Australian, and so I proudly trotted my tasteful ugg boots into the city. Where I got a Southern Cross tattoo on my back. I was deadly serious about this, and so not even the permanency of my beloved constellation contented me. I became the rugged explorer of the harsh interior— embarking on long weekend bush walks, talking seriously about drop bears, tackling a crocodile… Well, I couldn’t find a crocodile so I squished a gecko instead. Same difference. I was an outrageous patriot, damn it. But then the carpet was swept from beneath my feet. The following story happened to a friend of a friend of mine. Really. I’m not even joking.
While I was out one weekend, I was jeered at by a couple of drunks in the street. A flashback of the two girls teasing me raced through my mind, except this time I was called an “Auschwitz victim.” The drunks may not have had the magnetism of Hitler, but the same superior race tripe pulsed through their tiny minds. If there is such thing as a pure race, I can’t see how it would involve drunken bogans, spitting saucy sausage roll through their vitriol in the weekend’s small hours. Full of bitterness and regret over all the Chinese hot pot gatherings I had foregone in favour of my thousandth meat pie, I decided that my life was to take a 180 in a darker, more sinister direction. And so began my advocacy of Asian domination or, more simply put, Dominasian.
Part 3: Vengeance of the Snubbed Asian Every ‘typically’ Asian trait I had buried over the years surfaced so fast that I shocked myself. Within a matter of days I was scouring the bottoms of ticket machines for coins. I took the term ‘bad Asian driver’ to new heights, plowing into countless bumpers, tailgating into oblivion and narrowly missing many a pedestrian. Of course, when I did hit someone I pumped my fist into the air, happy to have contributed to the Asian cause by increasing our relative presence. You see, our bad driving is actually just an elaborate ploy to knock down innocent white man. You’ll have noticed we’ve successfully captured Melbourne city, and if all goes according to plan we’ll be walking the streets of the suburbs soon. Oh yes— replacing your bibles with the little red book, practicing tai chi on your pristine front lawns, spraying opium scented glade air freshener into your windows. We’re even taking your sports away from you—Tiger Woods is half Thai—Thaiger Woods! Mandarin might be a bit of stretch for small Caucasian minds, but we’ll advocate for Chinglish to be introduced into school curriculums—your children will be the ultimate hybrids! True multiculturalism. We’ll even bring the conical Asian straw hat into fashion, make it a summer must-have. You won’t know what hit you. You better start getting used to us slantyeyed folk ’cause we’re here to stay. No, we’re here to dominate. ILLUSTRATION BY ANUPAMA PILBROW
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FARRAGO — EDITION FIVE 2012