As promised here is my post on growing up…with brown skin and being Thai.
As I have mentioned in previous posts, my skin is brown while everyone else in the MacWilliam family has white skin. I never remember it being an issue growing up. It was not until I moved to British Columbia, Canada that I noticed how many people took an interest in my nationality. Working as a salesclerk kept me in constant contact with the public. People would stare at my face then very bluntly ask me if I was Filipina. Upon hearing the answer they would have one of two reactions: defensively reply with “Oh you look Filipina” and drop the subject. Or they would keep listing off different countries and imploring me to reveal the truth. Many would accuse me about lying. Insist that I was Filipina. When this first began happening in my late teens I thought it was weird. It had never happened to me as a child and now it was becoming a regular thing. Some people would go as far as to ask how long I had lived in Canada and how I liked living here?
The more I got bombarded with these questions the more frustrated and angry I became. Isn’t Canada the country made up of a cultural mosaic? With the population of over 34million, why would so many people be curious about me? I know I could take these peoples’ interest as humbling and complimentary but I DON’T. I find them invasive and act very hostile when put in the confrontational situations. Here’s why…well I will try to make my explanation as straightforward and easy to understand as possible; but I myself am still trying to understand my strong reactions.
When I answer to people that I am Thai I feel like I am defending myself. My identity. Why does it matter to them? They so strongly believe they know who I am but they don’t. How can they know who I am when I barely know myself? No one ever asks me if I am Thai. Filipina is the most commonly asked but I have been asked a dozens of others too. While reading Sarah Armstrong and Petrina Slaytors book, The Colour of Differences Journey in Transracial Adoptions I was awed by how much of the material I relate to. I wish that I had read it years ago like this part,
“Confusing situation of “not being what they seem” has resulted in many awkward and uncomfortable situations and has also resulted in being forced to disclose their adoptive status to many strangers.”
Whenever I tell inquiring minds that I am Thai, it is never enough information for them. Naturally people want to always be right, they need concrete evidence to disprove their theory. I used to try to explain as briefly as possible that I am in fact Thai but was adopted AND HAVE LIVED IN CANADA almost my whole life. Feeling defensive and awkward is not something I wish to be doing with strangers. Why does it matter? Them asking me is putting me on the spot!
I recently finished reading A.M Homes memoir about being adopted and how she reunited with her birth parents as an adult. The Mistress’s Daughter had candid bits I thoroughly enjoyed,
“I used to believe that every question deserved an answer, I used to feel obligated to answer everything as fully and honestly as
possible. I don’t anymore.”
That’s also how I feel now about answering peoples’ questions. I KNOW when someone wants to ask me a question. I can see when people are sizing me up and trying to find the right moment to begin being intrusive. Sometimes I simply reply with, “No” and divulge no other details and sometimes I feed them a few details to digest. More often then not we begin a conversation about how they were wrong – but what an interesting story I do have. I have had people want to sit beside me on public transit to talk to me about where I live and how long I have lived in Canada. I remember a time when I was shopping at downtown Victoria with Bizzle and a lady followed me around because she wanted to know if I was Filippina. I answered no but she kept prying for more information. She literally felt the need to tail us until she realized the answer was going to stay a no. In Nanaimo, people would come to my work place and tell me the names of people they thought were my parents or siblings. I had told them my parents were Canadian but they still did not believe me! They were insistent that I was Filippina Just the other day at the grocery store I felt blocked in an aisle when an elderly man asked if I was Maori. When I told him I was Thai-Canadian he would not let me pass until I had revealed a more sufficient amount of information.
I am beginning to realize the more I read about the topic of adoption and experience “life” the better I am understand these feelings of hostility. The reason I get so annoyed with people invading my personal bubble is because I feel inadequate with my answer. YES I know I am Thai but I don’t know…how Thai. Was my Mom and Dad Thai? Am I only a quarter, half, full Thai? Yes I was born in Thailand but I have more of a cultural understanding of what it is to be Canadian than that of my home country. My lack of cultural awareness has definitely festered away at me over time. NONE of my friends or brothers ever get asked where they are from! Asking me if I am: Filipina, Malaysia, Maori, Indonesian, Chinese, Indian makes me feel inadequate. I just don’t like it and I don’t know if I ever will.
When my friends or coworkers are around they try to buffer the situation because they know how much it annoys me. Some still find it funny, others are in awe of it, but I so appreciate them helping to diffuse or end the conversation. Even thought I can’t deter people from asking but I still have the power in deciding how much I share with people about myself. If the questions continue to persist I hope to find some inner peace and not feel so on edge about them.
I don’t really know if I explained myself very well here but I am happy I got to explain a little bit more about myself. Thanks for reading and I hope I did not bore you to sleep.
Keep Smiling,
xox Amanda
brown eyed girl 
Another thought provoking message. I assumed that people were just being friendly when they ask personal questions. Now I understand how it can be so intrusive and rude if you hear it all the time. Hugs, Sally
One summer, for fun I thought I would try to to track how many times I was asked and I think after 4 months it totalled over 35 times? I have always wanted to keep a record for a year but I never do.
For how long winded this post was I am still unsure I was able to get to the core of this topic. It is th way people come off expecting they deserve an answer. An answer that is satisfactory to them.Their curiousity is my pain. Why do they care what I am, does it matter to them? For some it’s simple small talk but for a lot of others they approach it in a way that is unnerving. I am also a shy person so for strangers to engage in such a personal topic is awkward. I may need to have a part two to this topic because I still have not been able to express what it is that bothers me so much.
Loveeee you xoxo Thanks for reading Sally!
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This is a late response, but I ABSOLUTELY know what you mean. I get it all the time as well. I’m told that I shouldn’t take it so personally and that people are just being friendly, but it ultimately does make you feel as though they are questioning whether or not you have a right to call Canada your own. They may not even be consciously thinking that and may have the best intentions in mind, but the very fact that they are asking the question shows how engrained the assumption is. They would never walk up to a white person and ask “where are you from?”. If they did, they’d be referring to an accent, or a hint that this person had grown up elsewhere in Canada. When they ask me, I know they really want to ask “why are you brown?”. I am proud of my mulatto skin, I am proud of my Jamaican heritage, and if you ask me “what is your ethnic background”, I really don’t mind. When you ask me where I’m from and imply that my answer should be anything other than “Canada”, I get upset. When I tell you where I’m from and you ask “but, where are you frooommmmm?” or “but where are your parents from?”, I get upset. My parents are Canadian. My mom is an immigrant, but has lived here longer than she lived in Jamaica. She is Canadian.
And people, please. When you find out that my dad is white, don’t look so outwardly shocked. I really don’t look black at all. I have curly hair and dark skin, but I look nothing like the black side of my family. You’ve seen enough black people to know that I’ve got my own thing going on.
rant over.
Loved your comment A-L-E-X! Your parents are beautiful and made a GORGEOUS daughter. We just need to keep SMILING when people throw shade our way. When people say, “No offense” I try to brush it off but deep down inside I am offended.
Love you!!