Saturday is usually a BodyJam day for me, the hip-hop dance workout that I’ve been enjoying for almost 20 years, and certified to teach until Covid shut it all down. There wasn’t enough interest after Covid, I was one of the 500 Goodlife employees laid off by email. No matter I still stalk my instructor friends at their classes, sometimes joining them on stage, but it is more fun to participate rather than have to review choreography all the time.
Today was a bit different from the ordinary. We were supposed to see Sarah McLachlan last night, but she postponed the Canadian leg of her Fumbling Towards Ecstasy tour last minute due to laryngitis. I was rather bummed about that, as we missed her when she came in the summer and the tickets were astronomically expensive for Budweiser stage. So when her fall US/Canada tour was announced I got right on Ticketmaster as soon as I could and scored pretty decent tickets at Casino Rama, 90 minutes just north of us. The important thing is her voice, so I hope the rescheduled dates work for us. To be honest, it worked out OK as I had a baby shower to attend downtown, so that saved a bit of running around first thing this morning.
1/ So the first thing I did was get dressed to go to a baby shower! What does one wear to a baby shower these days? I live in sweats and workout clothes but have tons of dresses and outfits in my closet that I never wear anymore. And heels? Don’t bother getting into those, even if I could still stand on them. I didn’t want to wear any work type outfits either, those that I had for the last few years whenever I went to local or head office.
This is what I ended up wearing; Moto-Little House on the Prairie vibes I know. It was comfy.
What a gorgeous presentation!
2/ Duolingo – I started practicing French in March in preparation for our May trip, and worked my way up to level 65 now, on a 214 day streak. I have a minor degree in French but it is so rusty as I got my degree over 30 years ago – gulp. It did come in handy for directions when we were in Nice, but I got lazy as most folks understood English. Nevertheless I hope to go back next year,
3/ Wordle – got it in 3. My stats aren’t too bad:
4/ Connections – got it.
5/ Like a dutiful Canadian, I’m watching the Leafs play the Blues, with our old man Cody. He turned 16 last weekend. He’s blind, a little deaf, has been fighting cancer for 2 years and getting more confused. But he’s our little sweetheart and sits here in his favourite spot:
At a time 
Still processing … life being Asian
“I worry about your Popo going out on her own. I’m glad she’s independent, but also relieved that with the pandemic she doesn’t venture out at all”
“I worry about you too, Mommy, you’re an Asian woman. It’s all so random.”
This is scary shit. I NEVER thought that the anti-Asian sentiment would be a “thing” for my daughter, for my kids to have to deal with, let alone it being arguably worse than when my parents and grandparents made their way into Canada. My kids have explored their Asian heritage for school – the Chinese Exclusion act is part of their Canadian history curriculum. They know of the head tax placed on their great grandfather; the reason for the somewhat fractured family dynamics. For me, micro-aggressions, schoolyard taunts, passive aggressive conversations, verbal slurs are one thing. The new normal in 2021 -random physical assaults and killings in broad daylight? This is civilized society?
It’s always there, you know. I grew up in assimilation mode, following the model established by my father – survival really. Be one with the every day Canadian white person. Don’t stick out, relish in the fact that you don’t have a Chinese accent – take it as a compliment when people call that out. Sometimes I would get the “You look mixed, actually, I can see it….”
I’m a banana – white on the inside, yellow on the out. The racist undertones. Through words, through actions. I am still yellow on the inside. You don’t say anything. You just deal and move on.
My husband made an assumption the other day, “You didn’t experience much racism growing up, did you?” To which I replied, “I haven’t mentioned it, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t felt it. And not just growing up, even in adulthood.” I love my husband, don’t get me wrong. He’s not racist at all. He’s just a white Canadian male. How could he understand or see it? We’ve been together 35 years- it was worth the conversation.
I suppose the fact that I would usually laugh at the “being Asian” jokes in conversation and in social media posts, make it seem like things have always been cool. And for the most part it hasn’t been a big deal. Nowadays, it really bothers me. I can’t look at it in the same way, it’s just not that funny anymore.
When I look back, I get a bit angry. Not huge events, but they niggle, like tiny cuts stung with saline. This is growing up in multi-cultural Canada.
-forced to miss recess regularly to talk to the new girl from China – I barely spoke Cantonese and she only Mandarin #resentfulawkwardness;
-being yelled at in a public washroom in Vancouver for taking locals’ jobs (I was a visiting tourist);
– on a European tour, being positioned in a group photo with the only other Asian in group – away from my white boyfriend (seriously ?);
-years ago at a global work event, being seated at the table for Asian countries – despite being the Canadian rep.
The NOW is a lot to process. What to do, what to say. I haven’t acknowledged any of the recent events on my social media accounts. A lifetime of being quiet about it doesn’t translate easily.