The issue I have with “We’re the same under our skin” is the same problem I had with the melting pot theory of diversity–I like my differences. Well, for the most part. I spent most of my childhood hating myself and everything that I thought was wrong with me. Telling me we were all the same at that point jsut felt like a sick joke. Not only did I not believe anyone who said that meaningless bullshit, it just made me feel worse about myself.
I remember going to school in a daze, not knowing what the fuck I was doing or supposed to do. I got teased and bullied almost on the daily, and I was utterly miserable. I got teased for being fat, for being Asian, and for having a weird name.
I hated my life with all my heart. I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in to make me a boy overnight. An adult once told me she liked my black hair, and I remembered thinking, “Why would anyone like black hair? It’s so ugly.” When I was a teenager, another woman told me to enjoy myself because those were the best years of my life. I thought to myself, “If these are the best years of my life, then then I might as well kill myself.”
Yesterday, I touched on how being the child on two Asian immigrants in the ’70s cemented my distaste for the melting pot theory of cultural diversity. It was my first introduction to the idea of mixing cultures, and it was not a good one.
Next up was the tossed salad* theory of cultural diversity. In this one, the idea wsa that we weren’t trying to melt into the American pot, but that we would all add something distinctive to the American salad before tossing it vigrously.
I thought this was better than the melting pot idea because it at least acknowledged the differences that other cultures have. Yet, it still wasn’t great because ‘American’ was still considered the base. And tossing the–er, mixing the salad kept the unequal feel to the different cultures.
Look, I know it sounds contradictory or that I am finding all the nits to pick (which, admittedly, true). But neither was good enough. I’m not being a jerk about it because it was in its nascent stages back then (DEI, I mean). It’s not great now, either, but I don’t want to talk about that because it’ll ma ke me really sad/mad.
Side note: We were talking about Depeche Mode in the Discord I’m in. One of the guys reminded me of the song, Blasphemous Rumours, which I adore. I have included it below. it’s one of my five favorite songs by Depeche Mode, a group I quite enjoyed in my youth.
Here’s the real thing. I don’t want to be like normies. I don’t think I could even if I wanted, but I don’t want. I’ve spent most of my life trying to fit in, and I never succeeded. Sometime in my thirties (probably around the time I started Taiji, I completely gave up. Not that I ever thought I had a chance, but that didn’t stop me from trying up until then.
I don’t like it when people want to simultaneously say that we’re the same and that we should appreciate our difference. You can’t have it both ways! I mean, I know what they’re trying to get at with that double talk. I agree that we’re all different. I disagree that we’re all the same under our skin. I just fundamentally disagree with that.
Of course, we all have the same basic equipment, more or less. But that’s like saying all houses have a floor, windows, and a ceiling. Yes, it’s true, but it doesn’t tell you anything about any given house. It also doesn’t tell you how to identify a house without adding other details.
This was something else that we discussed back in the aughts or so–whether mentioning someone’s race was racist or not. I strenously argued it wasn’t because that would be saying there was something wrong with being anything other than white. Look. In Minnesota, if I were to meet someone new, I would definitely tell them I was Asian. To do otherwise would be perverse and saying that there’s something wrong with being Asian. Or deliberately provoocative.
I have black (and white now) hair that goes down to my thighs. I’m noticeably Asian. If I don’t say that, then I’m misleading people. Also, they won’t be able to find me. It falls in the same categoryy as “colorblind”, and there’s no shame in naming the race. In fact, I take pride in it. I’m proud to be Taiwanese–why the hell wouldn’t I be?
If we celebrate differences, then we really celebrate them. I have said before that as long as it’s not hurting someone else, I don’t care what someone wants to do. There are too many meaningless restrictionts that really don’t need to be in existence. Again, there are important laws like driving laws. But meaningless things like wearing a bra (and, yes, I’m stuck on that) should be ignored and/or done away with.
So many societal norms that really are meaningless. I would ask the pro-bra crowh why they cared so passionately about other people wearing bras. If they want to wear them themselves, I don’t care. Have it at. Wear all the bras you want! Double bra yourself. Wear a bra to sleep! (Some people do, apparently.) Just give me the courtesy of letting my boobs free.
It’s not hurting anybody. If I were in an office, I would make sure to cover them up appropriately. But there’s no real reason to wear a bra, and anyone who wants to say it’s unprofessional can kiss my flattish yellow ass. I’m old. I’m tired. I’m VERY tired. I don’t need that shit in my life; I really don’t.
*Valiantly restisting the urge to make a ribald joke.