(Note: I would firstly like to say beforehand that I am not writing this post for any sympathy or for people to feel sorry for me, but to help others who are struggling with racism, and to help myself sort out the thoughts of my past. So if you happen to be a hater, then I don't care; you can hate all you want, because remember the wise words of Taylor Swift: "Haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate, baby".)
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| Taylor Is Love. Taylor Is Life. |
So, as the name of this blog suggests, I am a Korean, who is currently living in West Yorkshire. I've lived in England ever since I was born, and so naturally, my mind became to be more British than Korean. I've been living in West Yorkshire for 9 years and 1 month now, if my calculations are correct (wow, that's so Asian of me, because all Asians are good at maths, right?). Anyway, the reason why I am telling you all of this is because I want to firstly let you all know about the things that I have been through, and how I managed to surpass these obstacles. In the first 11 years of my life, I don't really think that I had any problems that were to do with racism, probably due to the fact that I was still in primary school then, when most kids at that age were still young and innocent (no creepiness intended).
Some schools will be located in rougher
areas than others, and therefore the behaviour of the pupils may differ
from school to school, but I am 100% certain that almost every school in
Great Britain will have at least 1 pupil who has been racist to
another. Statistics from CILT say that there are 3,127 maintained
secondary schools in England, so if put this together with my idea, that means
that there are at least 3,127 pupils that have been in racist
incidents, and we all know that the actual number will turn out to be a lot higher
than that, as it's definitely likely that on average, more than one
pupil will have been in a racist incident in most schools. In fact, data
from 90 areas in the UK show that between 2007 and 2011, there were
87,915 recorded cases of racist bullying in primary and secondary
schools, with the top two areas being Birmingham and Leeds, which is
where I live. However, these statistics aren't accurate, as the
DailyMail reported that a lot of the 87,915 recorded cases included kids
as young as 3 being classed as "racists over playground spats". But the point that I'm trying to make here is that there are lots of pupils who will have heard racist
comments said to them.
Here's a little bit of fun trivia for you guys: I have written up a brief list of as many of the names that I have heard said to me or to my friends, ranging from mild to wild, but not necessarily in that order: yellow, Chinese (this isn't technically racist to Chinese people, but to other Asians, it is), chinaman, chink, chinky, Bruce Lee, Short Round, small eyes, slit eyes, postbox (because most postboxes have slits, like the eyes of an Asian), the one inch wonder, ninja/samurai, Jackie Chan, dog muncher, and ching chong. Here are a few of the phrases that have been said to me: Do you like egg fried rice/egg roll/ king prawn? You bring shame and dishonour to your family. (The past two sentences seem normal enough, but you know that the person saying it means it in a racist way if they speak in that stereotypical Asian voice.) How do you see with eyes as small as that? How are you going to make love if you have a penis that small? Go away and eat some dog/noodles. Go back to your country. Go back and support Kim Jong Un. There have sometimes even been some extreme sentences that are so wrong that I would feel uncomfortable to put onto this post, but you all get the flavour, right?
So after the first 11 years, there was the leap from primary school to secondary school (for any of you American readers out there, that's from 5th grade to 6th grade, I think). Of course, this could be different for some of you, if you happen to live in rougher parts of the world, where some kids, even at a young age, are racist due to the way that they have been brought up. From what I remember, I first met racism in Year 7. This was at an age where we were the big fish, jumping out of the little pond, only to find ourselves in a bigger pond, with fish that were bigger and scarier than us. So in Year 7, at the start of this life that was totally different to primary school, I realised that I was different. I realised that I looked different to most of the other boys. But I didn't realise that people could and would use this difference against me. Year 7 therefore was one of the hardest years for me so far. I had just moved into a new school where I didn't know anybody, and this school happened to be an all boy's school. Now don't get me wrong; I'm sorry if this sounds sexist to any readers, but I think that the general behaviour at an all boy's school is different from the behaviour from boys at a mixed-sex school. I think that the majority of boys will feel like they are more free, as they don't have girls watching what they're doing. They therefore like to sometimes act differently to how they would normally act if they were around girls. I'm not saying that only guys are racist, or that guys are more racist than girls, or any other sexist message that you conjure from what I'm saying, but in my experience, I feel like being in a single-sex school affected the 'volume' of racism that I received. To be honest, I may have received an equal/larger amount of racism if I went to a mixed-sex school, but I didn't go to one, so I guess we will never know.
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| See? This kid knows. |
So after the first 11 years, there was the leap from primary school to secondary school (for any of you American readers out there, that's from 5th grade to 6th grade, I think). Of course, this could be different for some of you, if you happen to live in rougher parts of the world, where some kids, even at a young age, are racist due to the way that they have been brought up. From what I remember, I first met racism in Year 7. This was at an age where we were the big fish, jumping out of the little pond, only to find ourselves in a bigger pond, with fish that were bigger and scarier than us. So in Year 7, at the start of this life that was totally different to primary school, I realised that I was different. I realised that I looked different to most of the other boys. But I didn't realise that people could and would use this difference against me. Year 7 therefore was one of the hardest years for me so far. I had just moved into a new school where I didn't know anybody, and this school happened to be an all boy's school. Now don't get me wrong; I'm sorry if this sounds sexist to any readers, but I think that the general behaviour at an all boy's school is different from the behaviour from boys at a mixed-sex school. I think that the majority of boys will feel like they are more free, as they don't have girls watching what they're doing. They therefore like to sometimes act differently to how they would normally act if they were around girls. I'm not saying that only guys are racist, or that guys are more racist than girls, or any other sexist message that you conjure from what I'm saying, but in my experience, I feel like being in a single-sex school affected the 'volume' of racism that I received. To be honest, I may have received an equal/larger amount of racism if I went to a mixed-sex school, but I didn't go to one, so I guess we will never know.
Anyway, at the start of Year 7, things were fine, as all of the students were settling in to this new environment, but after that, I started to see the formation of groups. One of the biggest groups, who everyone calls the ATL (All The Lads) were probably the scariest group to me in our year. They mostly consisted of very sporty guys (ie. the jocks (no offense, guys)), who were a lot larger than me, and they would hang out together being silly, getting told off and doing stuff that only "the bad boys" would have done back at that age. This was one of the many groups that had formed, and at around this time, I started to hear the racism. It was pretty slow at first, and most of them didn't really offend me; I would just ignore them as I didn't want to show them that my emotions were hurt, but suddenly there was a time where more and more people saw the others being racist to me, and they would join in, thinking that it was 'okay' or just 'banter'. The racism seemed to pile up on top of me, until I couldn't handle it, and I felt like the weight was too much. I couldn't tell anyone about the words that they had said, as I didn't want to seem weak by telling a teacher or my parents, just to end up seeing their smug faces as they saw my ashamed face whilst they were getting told not to say mean words like that again. Why, there were some times when I couldn't keep in the anger anymore, and I would say the most hurtful things that would pop up in my head. There was even a time when I just grabbed my ruler and slapped this guy across the face out of pure hatred and anger (if you're reading this Henry, then I'm sorry, and I hope that you have forgiven me if you still remember that time). If there's any help that I can give you in this post, then it's this: don't slap them with a ruler; the teacher doesn't approve of it.
If I had to say that there were any benefits of being a victim to racism, then I would say that it made me tougher. However, if I had the choice to relive my life and choose whether people were racist to me or not, then I would definitely not let people be racist to me and be less tough, rather than having to endure all of the racism and be more tough. Having said that, I would still be born as a Korean if I could choose which nationality I was born to. (Or a potato. I've always wanted to be a potato.) So I started to slowly learn through Years 7 and 8 that if I was just able to ignore them, and keep my cool, then they would eventually get bored of it, and leave me alone. And it worked. I took those lemons that life gave and turned them into lemonade. But then they started to leave me alone, which meant that I was running out of lemons, and you can't make any more lemonade without any lemons. I began to run out of my lemonade, and I forgot how to ignore the comments. I forgot how to use my tools to block out the haters. So when the next huge supply of lemons came, they were too much for me to handle, and I wasn't able to make enough lemonade in time. This was around the time of Year 9.
Now, I'm going to say something that I don't think I've told anybody. (Disclaimer: Again, I'm just reminding you that I'm not saying all of this for the attention and/or sympathy, but I'm just trying to be as honest as I can, and so I can look back at my (now) 17 year old self and remember the good and the bad times I used to have.) So when the next surge of lemons flew towards me, I wasn't able to cope with it. This was also the time when I realised that I had to focus on my work and realise how important and life-changing they were going to be. There was a lot of stress and hidden depression in this year. There were times when I would sit and just think to myself, "Why? Why am I alive? Why am I going through these years? What will happen to me in the future?", and other similar deep questions about life. This was the first stage, which I will call... Stage A. Then came the next stage (oh yes, you clever people), Stage B. This was when I thought about what life would be like if I wasn't alive, and what would happen if I commit suicide? Just before you start to think "attention seeking whore", NO, I didn't actually think about killing myself. I just thought of what would things be like if I did. I realised that I wouldn't have to suffer any more of the stress or the pain. Then I realised that I was being silly and that committing suicide was not the right path. My lemonade came back and I said to myself, "it wouldn't be very smart to kill yourself over a few silly words that some people said to you, would it?". So that night I stopped thinking, went to my desk, and started to revise for my degree in medicine like a good Asian boy, because all Asians do that, right? (I guess we can call that Stage C.)
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| You'll need to learn how to do this (the blocking, not the spoon balancing). |
Now, I'm going to say something that I don't think I've told anybody. (Disclaimer: Again, I'm just reminding you that I'm not saying all of this for the attention and/or sympathy, but I'm just trying to be as honest as I can, and so I can look back at my (now) 17 year old self and remember the good and the bad times I used to have.) So when the next surge of lemons flew towards me, I wasn't able to cope with it. This was also the time when I realised that I had to focus on my work and realise how important and life-changing they were going to be. There was a lot of stress and hidden depression in this year. There were times when I would sit and just think to myself, "Why? Why am I alive? Why am I going through these years? What will happen to me in the future?", and other similar deep questions about life. This was the first stage, which I will call... Stage A. Then came the next stage (oh yes, you clever people), Stage B. This was when I thought about what life would be like if I wasn't alive, and what would happen if I commit suicide? Just before you start to think "attention seeking whore", NO, I didn't actually think about killing myself. I just thought of what would things be like if I did. I realised that I wouldn't have to suffer any more of the stress or the pain. Then I realised that I was being silly and that committing suicide was not the right path. My lemonade came back and I said to myself, "it wouldn't be very smart to kill yourself over a few silly words that some people said to you, would it?". So that night I stopped thinking, went to my desk, and started to revise for my degree in medicine like a good Asian boy, because all Asians do that, right? (I guess we can call that Stage C.)
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| But seriously, don't commit suicide. Life's too sweet to give up. |
Now, after this, the pains went away. (Well, at least I thought they did until a few weeks ago, but I'll save that for another day, as it's only partially to do with racism, and I think that this post is already longer than it should be.) Unfortunately, the stress is still here, right to this very moment, but I think that the stress that I have now is a good kind of stress, if that's possible. I learnt to cope with all of the hate and racism, and as some may say, I "grew some balls". Even now, I will hear the odd racist comment, and sometimes it may get through my magical shield of lemonade and poke me, but now I can happily ignore the comment, realising how silly that racist is, and just walking along, carrying on with whatever I was doing.
Get ready for Part 2:- The Types Of Racism, which I'll write up as soon as I get the time. Until then, learn to lemonade.
AKBIT-HOE 00:38 24/10/2014
