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When I Was Racist

1.

I believe I’ve written about this before, but it’s a goodie: in sixth grade, a Chinese girl on my schoolbus jabbed my forehead with her thumb and cried “Paki dot!” So when I got to class, I did the same thing to a girl in my class…who was Pakistani. At this point, a popular white girl ripped me a new one, asking me what was so funny about making fun of somebody else’s ethnicity and p.s. did I know I was a huge loser. P.s. I did, because I had a home perm, ok?

Here’s the thing about this painfully hilarious scenario: I am brown. And I had literally no idea what a “Paki” or a “Paki dot” was. Why would I? No one said Paki in my house. I am the oldest kid, so I didn’t have any wiser siblings to school me in the language of ethnic disses. I was outside of Canada from ages four to eight. I truly had no clue, I thought I was doing something trendy that would make me seem cool. Sadly, I have never been good at that.

Anyway, that white girl is now one of my oldest and dearest friends and that incident makes me laugh a lot. The moral of this story is that sometimes, white people are anti-racist loudmouths their whole lives. So really it has a happy ending.

2.

In the eighth grade, I used to take the TTC home from school with a bunch of kids from my neighbourhood. There was me, two sets of boy-girl Chinese siblings, and our white/Macedonian friend. Most days, we would run into the same set of black kids in uniforms. For some reason, we all decided to hate each other and make really stupid comments about each others clothes, intellect, etc. I’m going to say what I honestly think here, which is: they started it.

So one day it got mean for some reason, and the oldest black kid, a boy, said something I didn’t hear. One of my Chinese friends got upset. I asked what the kid had said. My friend wouldn’t tell me. I kept bugging him, so finally he said, “he called you a Paki.”

I felt hot, as I usually do when I’m mad and ashamed at the same time. Then I said “well, if I’m a Paki, you’re a nigger.” To which he replied, proudly, “always have been, always will be.”

This story still kind of bugs me. I mean, I’m mostly over it. But I’m still mad at myself for stooping to his level and for being racist and I’m really mad at him for being racist and I’m also jealous of him for having a pride in the face of racism that I didn’t.

3.

This one is hardest to write, ‘cause it’s about now: sometimes, Chinese senior citizens make me feel crazy. I’ve read Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior, and quite frankly, I don’t like the idea that older Chinese peeps might consider me a a non-person (since I’m not Chinese). I certainly get that feeling from them when I’m being pushed around at the grocery store by someone half my size. I’m also kinda grossed out by their incessant chain-smoking of Marlboros.

I am also sometimes annoyed by the pupusa ladies in Kensington, who serve all the Latinos first before deigning to look at me. So I guess I’d like to think that my racism is spurred by others’ racism, but that can’t always be true. And besides, being tolerant of intolerance is the only way to fight the battle, or so I’d like to think. Maybe bumping up against others’ irrational dislike forces me to acknowledge my own irrational dislike—as I get older, I sometimes do think that xenophobia is “natural” (as in innate, or so ancient it may as well be innate), and that finding a way to be a truly interdependent and multicultural city is a brand new, modern battle that Toronto should accept it’s fighting in order to succeed at.

Anyway, I truly also think that old Chinese ladies are pretty frigging awesome—seriously, are there any other old ladies that get out as much as the Chinese? Whether it’s 7 a.m. or 3 a.m., they are out on the street, doing their shopping, going to restaurants, having a chat at 85 decibels, wearing leopard-spotted fun fur. They don’t let age keep them back. So really, they can smoke as many Marlboros as they like. When I’m 70, I plan on pushing young chicks around to get at the gai lan, too.

This post is part of the Ethnic Aisle blogging project. If you’re interested in race, ethnicity, diversity and the GTA, check it out.

Bylined: The Anarchist of Forest Hill

This is probably the most interesting, exciting story I’ve ever worked on. In Toronto Life, the story of Byron Sonne, a computer security consultant who became obsessed with testing the security apparatus at last year’s G20–and who’s spent almost a year in jail because of it.

Bylined: Notorious corners

From Saturday’s Globe, a piece (by me!) about whether four historically “bad neighbourhoods” still deserve a bad rep. This was pretty inspiring to write – the tiny, one-table farmer’s market at Jane and Finch caused my heart to swell far more than the yuppie fest that is the Brickworks. And I say that as a veritable yuppie myself.

Video: Vijay Iyer Trio, Galang

With winter’s first real snowfall happening outside, it seemed like a good day to sleep in, eat shiitake frittata (say that five times fast), go back to bed, download “Mall Cop” based on hilariously outraged negative iTunes review (and low brain cell count), make oven fries and finally check out jazz pianist Vijay Iyer who is, as promised, awesome (and frighteningly multitalented). Happy new year, everyone.

How I Eat: Dinner

eggplantlunch

Every week, without fail, these three dinners will be eaten in my home:

- Tacos, with tortillas from La Tortilleria in Kensington Market, black or pinto beans and guacamole. Other rotating additions include rice, tomatillo salsa or sautéed veg.

- Whole wheat pasta. Toppings include garlic, oil and parsley, to which it’s great to add some pepper flakes, chopped olives, chopped anchovies, sausage, and/or a squeeze of lemon; canned tomatoes with some or all of the above; this great harissa and kale recipe from 101 Cookbooks.

- Stir-fry of some sort. Right now I’m really into Mark Bittman’s braised eggplant with tofu and shiitakes, but any Asian green or mushroom will work. I like to keep my stirfries very simple and cut my veg pretty small. I hate random horrible chunks of undercooked veg, a la Spring Rolls. Ech. Usually I make double rice and then eat a simpler stir-fry with egg a day or two later.

Luckily I’m not tired of these meals despite making them for 872 years. It’s much easier to make dinner on a workday when I can do it in 45 minutes or less on autopilot. I could probably make tacos with my eyes closed. Other meals that are on semi-regular rotation include pad thai, chili, mac and cheese, and veg with soba noodles and a tahini-miso dressing. Le Jenk makes a wicked paella…hmmm, haven’t had that lately.

As for new meals, I’m hitting How to Cook Everything Vegetarian pretty hard lately. The eggplant/tofu/shiitake stir fry is awesome, the bean burgers are pretty good, the seaweed stirfry was kinda meh, the braised radishes were so clever and yummy…overall, it’s a terrific book, very inspiring. More elaborate meals have been scarce lately, due to an extreme lack of time. I need to give this massive Spanish cookbook some love—I’ve only made squid in it’s own ink, which was very tasty, and really strange-looking.

As far as processed food, the main offenders for us are tofu, St. Lawrence Market perogies (aka the best perogies east of Roncesvalles), Pacific organic soups (the buttery corn and cheesy tomato are awesome) and, sadly, hummus and baba ganoush. I say sadly because hummus and baba ganoush are so easy to make, and I hate buying them in plastic containers, but that’s life for the time-crunched. I wish I could take the containers back to be refilled.

Cheap dinner out is the urban girl’s lifesaver. Regulars in my neighbourhood include Manpuku, Pho Hung (even after my Vietnamese hair dresser told me “you know, I hate to say this, but it’s for Caucasians”), Fresh (don’t love it, but good when I’ve eaten more junk/meat than I like), and C’est What (close to work; great beer). When making a parental visit to Scarborough, Tangerine (by my parents’ place) and Shahi Karahi (by his) are our favourites. Fish pakoras are a must at the first, chicken tikka rolls at the second.

Fancy dinners out don’t happen too often—we’d both rather save our money for holidays. I’d like to try Ame. The standout of the past year is probably Nota Bene (those ethereal onion rings are the coolest); longer term favourites are Foxley, Crush and Cava. If I were rich, I’d have been to Hashimoto by now. We went to Amaya recently, which was pretty awesome. The prawn appetizer and subcontinentally-spiced cocktails really stood out, and the prices were much better than Indian Rice Factory. But neither is as good as Vij’s.

And that, at long last, is how I eat.

If you missed any parts, here’s breakfast, lunch, snacks, ethics and shopping. Hungry yet?