I know American newscasters and television constantly promote equality and fairness.  But it really irks me how they fail to make the distinction between opinion and intention to harm.  I know my Philippino relatives think that Chinese people are stingy.  They don’t say that around me, because my father is Chinese.  I know my Thai relatives think that Philippinos are not as industrious, but they don’t say that out loud to my mother.

Being the daughter of two people from different countries, I have to say that no matter how much you want people to just all be friends, people intrinsically know that they don’t have to be friends with someone just because someone else wants them to be.  Only brainwashed academics still believe that thought police can make people equal and amiable towards each other.

I grew up in towns where there weren’t many non-white people.  And thus, I never felt the need to separate myself from those of a different color.  My friends were mostly white, and it was purely a matter of statistics.  If 90% of people are white, and you have 10 good friends, 9 of them are likely to be white.

So it was funny when I moved to California, where the Asian population is much higher than, say, Arkansas or West Virginia.  I still remember the first time my mother tried to host a potluck party, inviting both my dad’s Thai friends and her own Philippino friends.  The food was laid out in the main room, and my mother had set tables in the living room for guests to eat at.  The guests arrived and everyone got some food.  And then, the lovely tables that my mother set up?  No one sat at them.

The Thai friends of my father sat in the dining room, speaking Thai and talking about Buddhism.  My mother’s Philippino friends all sat in the front parlor on the floor, talking in Tagalog and Ilocano.  And never the twain did mix.

As one matures, one realizes one can’t force people to get along.  The reality is that people are different, and we all gravitate towards those like us.  If one hasn’t learned that by high school, it’s unlikely that one will ever learn.

So every now and then I hear Philippino and black people ragging about groups that promote “white pride.”  Why in the world should white people be proud of themselves?  Geez, I wonder.  Why in the world should anyone be proud of anything?  The way they talk of it, you’d think they’d want to outlaw pride.  (Talk about trying to control people’s behavior. . . )

I get emails from Philippino classmates asking me to join Philippino pride groups.  To be honest, I’m not fully Philippino, and I get really sick of people telling me I should learn Tagalog so I can be a part of my “culture.”  My mother is Ilocano, and she barely speaks Tagalog.  Only ignorant people think that Philippines actually has one language, and that all Philippinos speak Tagalog.

To be proud of my heritage, should I then join a Philippino-Thai-Chinese-Spanish Pride Group?  And learn all 4 languages?  I hardly think my heritage is something to be proud of.  I have far more individual accomplishments that I am proud of, than to say that my grandparents were merely ‘born’ as a happenstance at a certain range of longitude and latitude on this globe we call Earth.  And having a solid grasp of the English language has served me far better than learning a language that I will never use.  I save my brain space for more important matters, such as what to do for a child who is in cardiac arrest.

When I was in college, my dad encouraged me to join the Berkeley Thai Council (fancy name for, “We Are Thai, and We Want Something On Our CV For When We Graduate And Need To Schmooze To Get a Job”).  So I signed up for the club, paid my dues, and went to the first meeting I was invited to.  My Jewish friend asked to come along, because. . . well, he likes Thai food, and it was supposed to be a potluck.  What a reception he got. . . .  The president of the club seemed offended that someone who wasn’t even Thai would come to a Thai meeting.

And what did he do?  Did he say, “Welcome!  Come and enjoy and learn about Thai culture!”  Nope.  He challenged my Jewish friend to a chili pepper eating contest.  And lost. Then he slunk off to sit with the other Thai males, and didn’t speak to my friend the rest of the night.

After that macho display, I was a little disgusted. So my friend and I went to the kitchen and helped out the women who were preparing the stuff for the potluck.  I daresay, we ate a lot of good food that night.  Of note, my Jewish friend was the only male in the kitchen, helping to prepare food.

I stopped going to Berkeley Thai Council meetings.  I try to limit my promoting gender and racial segregation to one event per year.

Not too long ago, I was surprised to hear Matt make a derogatory comment about “ragheads.”  I was surprised because Matt is usually not one to make vague generalized statements.  He knows that many different religious people wear head coverings such as turbans, and was he specifically trying to deride Islamofacist terrorists?  Or was he making a comment about everyone who wears a turban?  Because I know him well, I know he meant the former.

Still. . .

On Monday, a good friend of mine is going overseas to see his family.  So to celebrate his finishing residency, we all went out to lunch at an Italian restaurant.  Both he and my other friend are going to start their new jobs in the fall — one in private practice, one in a community health center.  I admire them both and will miss them terribly.

Since both of them are going on plane trips soon, they mentioned to me that you are no longer allowed to take liquids on board planes.  This clinches my vow to never fly again.  Two weeks ago, when I went to California, I brought my own water and soda, because I hate paying $3 for a 12 oz. pop which is mostly melted ice.  I even brought my own bag of fried chicken (a la “Sanford and Son”) and a Tupperware full of blueberry muffins that my dad made the day before I left.  I shared them with a graduate student from Kenya in the Dallas airport.  My theory is that if everyone brought food on planes, we could have some awesome potlucks.

But, now, not allowing me to carry my food and water with me, and yet not serving meals?  No thanks.

I feel even more sorry for my friends who are flying overseas in the near future.  16-hour flights with no mouthwash allowed?  Makes for a stinky inflight experience.

And to top it all off, my Sikh friend informed me that the day that he is leaving for India is the day that some numbskull Islamofacists decided to declare a bomb threat.

So, I fear for my friend’s safety.  Not from racist airline people, as white people always complain about, because I know they’ll treat him fairly, but from a bunch of radical “raghead” nincompoops who feel that the only way to make a point is to threaten working people’s lives.

At lunch, my friend and I almost got into an argument about gun ownership.  He is very much like my dad, in that he believes that guns are not safe to have around, if you have children, as he does.  I am more like my grandfather, as I believe there is a time and place for gun ownership in the private sector.  Then again, I am not Sikh, so I don’t believe that there are always peaceful means of conflict resolution.  I have no doubt that if confronted with a terrorist on a plane, my friend would give his life to protect his family in spite of the fact that he doesn’t believe in violence.

So, I have only seven words for the Islamofacist terrorists who are making life difficult for my Sikh friends.

Touch my friends, and you are dead.

Those already addicted to the Antilles know that the French Antilles have many features that justify more than just a trip.They
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