We’ve all had dreams. Dreams of freedom. Dreams of flying. Dreams of all the possibilities the future holds. In primary school, I dreamed of being white. It may sound silly, it may sound like I’m lying, but it was the dream I desperately wished would become reality. I literally planned to get plastic surgery after primary school to make my hair blond, my eyes larger, my skin paler. I prayed to be born white in my next life. I wished so badly to be white because to me white meant perfection. Popularity, beauty, acceptance, everything that primary school me longed for.
Growing up in a suburb where the majority of people, around 90% were white meant that the Asian minority were targeted. It was fine from kindergarten to year three when I didn’t understand. I wasn’t fine when I did understand. In my later primary school years being Chinese meant that my language was whittled down to ching-chong-chow, it meant people pulling up the sides of their eyes, it meant people making up stories about my flat face, it meant kids that had grown up being taught that Chinese people were inferior, kicking balls at me because they thought I couldn’t speak English. It meant being so ashamed of my culture that I avoided speaking my language, I avoided talking about my culture, I avoided being near Chinese people, I avoided visiting my cousins in China. I even dreaded coming to North Sydney Girls. I was too scared to even go out for the fear of people judging me for being Chinese.
We’re told day after day that Australia is welcoming of all cultures, that its multiculturalism is what makes Australia, Australia but I’m pretty sure the Chinese immigrants who came during the Gold Rush can say differently.
From the moment they set foot in Australia they were discriminated against. Violence, bullying, bashings, name-calling and cruel jokes were a common and a daily occurrence for them. From 1855 the Chinese were taxed a ten-pound fee to arrive in Victoria, and from 1857 they were charged an annual resident’s fee of between 4-6 pounds was charged on top of the poll tax. They were the only nationality required to pay taxes like these. This anti-Chinese activity only worsened through the nineteenth century and it continues to worsen now.
You haven’t changed. You haven’t changed a bit and this fact was brought to light by COVID-19.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, Asians have been verbally and physically assaulted, had their properties vandalized, received death threats, or have been refused service. Don’t say this is because COVID-19 originated in a city in China. Just because we are Asian does not mean we have COVID. Being Asian, does not mean I caused the coronavirus. And it’s not just the actions that scream. It is the quiet whispers. The sideways glances. Those small actions still yell discrimination.
I guess the lack of coverage, the lack of acknowledgment, the smothering of the voices that speak up makes it easier for you too. Racism towards Asians is not as recognized as other social conscience issues. Despite its seriousness, despite its impact on the victims, despite the suffering, we are taught nothing. We learn nothing about the racism the Chinese were subject to during our arduous studies of the gold rush. We talk nothing about what the Chinese are subject to now. We do nothing.
I remember this time in OOSH and the same kid who always taunts me about being Chinese was back and taunting me again. My mum always told me to ignore the people that bully me, so I was. Then my friend, who had just gone to the bathroom came back. She saw the kid, pulling his cat eyes and heard his derogatory remarks. But she just stood there. Like the teachers always pretended not to notice. Like the people always pretended not to notice.
People constantly disregard the racism that Chinese people face. They are blatantly ignorant. This is why we haven’t changed because no one is waiting by the fire pit with kindling.
But let me tell you. Without China, you wouldn’t have the balls that you kicked at me. You wouldn’t have the clothes on your body. You wouldn’t have Chinese Takeaway. You wouldn’t have the milk tea that I see so many of you lining up for.
Hurl at me whichever words you wish, I am still Chinese. And I am proud. Even though you once melted me like a snowflake, I’ll fly like a bird because now I know that being Chinese does not mean being ugly. Being Chinese does not make me inferior. Being Chinese does not mean being treated differently. Being Chinese does not mean yellow skin. It doesn’t mean small eyes. It doesn’t mean a flat face. Being Chinese means that I am a human too.
H.C.A Agate 