readers, digest this...

AI-YAH! I heard it again. The "O-word."

This time it was a Tuesday evening, and I was at the checkout line of the local hardware store. I had just spent a harrowing 20 minutes trying to decide whether to purchase the "soft white" or the "yellow tint" fluorescent light bulb. Needless to say, the cheaper "soft white" won out. With my light bulb tucked under my arm, I approached a particular check-out line attended by a young female clerk. Maybe I stood in her line because she was attractive. But quite possibly I stood in her line because I had noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was another Asian guy in the next line. You know The Rule: Don't stand behind another Asian person or family or else risk having to explain that you're not related. It saves everyone from potential grief or embarrassment.

As I discretely observed the other line, I noticed that the Asian guy was an older man. One might have easily assumed that he was my father. I wondered if he knew The Rule. Good thing I chose this line. He quickly and quietly finished his transaction, grabbed a plastic bag and left. Swiiiish. Out the automatic sliding doors. Into the darkness.

Meanwhile, my clerk reached out for the fluorescent light bulb. I uttered a curt "hello, that's all" and handed her the bulb. Just enough words to show that I spoke perfect American English. Sorry, no foreigner here. I quite possibly saved us both from another potentially embarrassing situation. So far so good.

Swiiiish. A roaming employee walked through the sliding doors. He was probably in charge of shopping cart retrieval. The clerk in the next aisle casually announced to him, "Oh. He forgot one of his bags. He might still be in the parking lot... an Oriental guy." Oooo!! The sound of that word sent chills down my spine as images of mystic Fu Manchus and subservient geishas flashed before me. I suppressed the urge to bow and glanced over to the guilty clerk. Yeah, my suspicions were confirmed; He was a young "soft white" male. An Occidental man.

The usual protests ran through my mind: "Did he know what he just said? Could he actually define for me the boundaries of his O-place?' Did he even know the history of that word? Did he realize that I was standing right here, an aisle away? Me, the self-proclaimed Asian American activist and a former president of the Asian American Association?" Oh, I'm shocked and infuriated, but no one can tell through my calm collected exterior and expressionless face. I closed my eyes and imagined myself exclaiming in dubbed voice-over, "You have insulted my father's honor, and now you must pay!"

"Your total is $3.27," announced my clerk. My attention returned to her. Though still in shock, I managed to hand over my crumpled $5 bill. I stared at her intently while she picked out change from the cash register. My Asian American training had prepared me for moments as these, and I knew my concentrated gaze would prevent any further contribution to such a freely spoken "O-word." "Here's your change, sir." "Thank you," I replied. Clearly I had an effect.

Swiiiish. As I left the hardware store, I wondered what more I should do. Maybe I should go back in and return the light bulb. There was no reason for me to shop at a store where I would be subjected to such insensitivity. Even if it was unintentional. Heck, if I wanted to hear the "O-word," I could have easily gone over to the carpet store across the street! With the deceptive skill of Charlie Chan , I could have probed the salespeople about the origins of their fantastic and exotic-looking red, yellow, and green rugs. Then, one of them would be caught off guard and surely let the "O-word" slip out. And I would exclaim, "Ah-hah! I don't want to buy your magic flying rugs!" And my power as an Asian American consumer would be known and my father's honor restored.

I paused in the parking lot to decide on my actions.
Hmmm... I really did need this light bulb...

Days later, the hardware store experience was still clear in mind, but I've had time to cool off. The fluorescent bulb was working adequately although I can't help but think that "yellow tint" might have been better. I wondered, why was it that wherever I went, my ears tuned into the abundant ignorance surrounding me? Had I developed a certain over-sensitivity to various issues? Was I looking for trouble everywhere? Was this what getting a liberal education was all about? Perhaps I was a little too involved with the Asian American community while in school. And as a result, I was wary of everything "mainstream," "conservative," or "politically incorrect." Maybe I should have just been a good little Asian boy and studied harder. Do my part to further our grand reputation as the " model minority."

On the other hand, would things have been better if I had avoided the Asian American community altogether? If I had ignored their issues, then maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about such little things. And maybe I wouldn't even be bothered by larger issues such as the increasing anti-Asian violence, Affirmative Action, the English-only movement, or the recurring anti-immigrant sentiments. That would be a relief. No worries. No responsibilities. Then I could be another person to declare that "we're all Americans first and we should be color-blind and treat everyone as people, blah, blah, blah." Sometimes that sounds just so great.

Who knows? Maybe if I was unaware of our issues or if I hadn't developed such a concern for the community, I wouldn't be so sensitive. Or maybe I would. I don't know for sure.

All I know is that I will hear the " O-word" again.  And maybe next time,  I'll really do or say something about it.  Or maybe I won't.

  "Though the article is based on actual events (1994), the views represented above do not necessarily  belong in my mind.  But they're there.  Ai-yah."