Skin Deep

When I was younger, I didn't realize that skin color or ethnicity made people different. I was aware that everyone looked different, but that kind of superficial difference meant nothing to me. Growing up, my neighborhood was predominantly black and Hispanic, with a small sprinkling of whites and Asians, which meant that my elementary school was as well. We were all friends with each other, it didn't matter the person's skin color or their background - or it didn't matter to me at least, although when I look back on memories I recall that a lot of people's "best" friends were the same race or ethnicity. However, I considered everyone to be basically the same. Part of this may have stemmed from the fact that my mother is Korean and my father is white; my mother was adopted by a white family when she was five and remembers nothing of her origins, she considers herself to be ethnically white because of this.

Middle school was a crash course in reality. For the first time in my life there were clearly drawn lines between races, and I was unsure of my place in this new society. The first week of school made it very clear to me that the "popular" kids were going to be the ones from Laytonsville, the white kids that were shipped in from half an hour away to up our school's test scores. These were the kids in my classes, because I was in all Honors classes. They all knew each other, and they were all drastically different from me. We didn't dress the same, look at life the same, or even speak the same slang - and I often felt that they were looking down on me for my differences. It was not a feeling I was happy with, and I tried very hard to conform; I learned how to speak without my neighborhood rhythm and accent, I dressed trendier (and less comfortably), and I listened to their music and watched their shows. Then, something in me rebelled, and I started trying to be different on purpose. The majority of my wardrobe became bellbottoms and vintage shirts, I made fun of "white" people and their habits, I called the popular kids "preppies". The funny thing was, they started liking me better after that, although by that point I didn't really care. I was infuriated with the shallowness of it all, and I became aware - for the first time in my life - of prejudice, bias and stereotypes. I hated all of it.

In high school I would occasionally fight against the system, or use its own stupidities to my advantage. When I took my SATs and it asked me to fill in a circle for my race, I checked the "Other" box and wrote in "Human"; and when I applied to colleges I applied to the southern schools as Asian and the northern schools as White, taking advantage of Affirmative Action. By then, I didn't really believe I was different, I just hated the system that tried to tell me I was.

My friends were the ones who made me feel the most different. We met in middle school and we all had great times together, they were all white but it didn't seem to matter. It certainly didn't matter to me, and they gave no sign that they thought of me as anything but - sometimes when I made fun of "white people" they'd make fun of me for doing it (although they knew I meant it ironically). However, towards the end of high school they hit me with a sledgehammer. They all had boyfriends in a particular group of friends, and they wanted to hook me up with one of the guys in that group. I was shocked, absolutely floored. Not that they wanted me dating a guy in their boys' group, but their reasoning behind the guy they chose.

"His name is Jack, he's cute, REALLY fun and funny... and he's even Asian! It's perfect!" They were beaming at me, proud that they'd found me the perfect guy to go with.

Despite my trepidation, I agreed to meet him and check him out. I found him crass, immature and obnoxious. He was really a bad guy, just not at all my type. The worst part was that there were other guys in the group that were much more my type. My friends hadn't even thought of proposing them as possibilities, they'd chosen Jack because he was Asian.

I have never felt so alone and misunderstood as I did when I realized what had happened. Now I look back and I know, intellectually, that they were just trying to help; but the fact remains that they looked at the outside rather than the inside. People do this a lot; when looking for a blind date for a friend people tend to go more superficial than anything else. It's assumed that because the person is the same race/ethnicity/religion that they'll get along well, it's a perfect match!!! And of course, this isn't always true. I myself am a by-product of a racially mixed couple.

I find it sad that so many people look at what's on the outside, rather than considering what's on the inside. What the person likes or dislikes, their hobbies, etc. People would probably enjoy blind dates a lot more if people hooked them up with the other person based on something other than their common skin color.