the Caucasian is obviously fucking entitled as shit, and the Asian is fucking dumb as shit — so it’s obviously not about race … lol.

Yea, obviously, I read the article about the “Bad” art friend, and honestly, I don’t really care about the drama of it all, at all (not to mention the whiteness of the author in a context that’s attempting to present a relationship between an Asian and a Caucasian woman, and the bias is small but there), nevertheless, that relationship, specifically between an entitled Caucasian and an opportunistic Asian is what has sparked a bit of interest for me, and as a writer, I could not help but feel a bit of pathetic sympathy for both of them for existing inside the world from which I’ve worked incredibly hard to remain distant.

Yea, sure (re this “writer’s world”), you can think to yourself that this is how I deal with my ego and my lack of tangible trophies of success as a writer, or you can believe me when I say that I actively avoid being around other writers. And I learned this lesson from experience after experiencing a few writing groups, starting my own, and eventually landing on the conclusion that this idea of a “writer’s community” is one fucked up piece of shit. I’d rather not go into specifics, especially since I’ve already written about the terrible experience I had with two Caucasian women who considered themselves writers. And yea, sure, you can go ahead and think that, because of my race, I feel entitled or what-have-you to comment on this particular … drama. The point is that your thoughts do not affect the reality of my situation, and so, I decided that I’d take a stab at writing my perception of the situation told in the unfolding of an Asian plagiarist and a Caucasian White (no, not all Caucasians are White, as in, not all white people hold to the belief that they are the center of the universe, and yes, people of Global origin may also be White).

As an Asian female-raised but not born and currently living in These United States — my perspective on the story is fixated on the nature of the two women’s relationship, if you can even call it that. And this is where I’d like to begin. Statistically speaking, Caucasians have less diversity among their friends. The chance that a Caucasian has a friend who is not Caucasian is extremely low. However, if you are Global, the chance that you have non-Global friends is extremely high. I know this from firsthand experience, and if you are Global, you also inherently understand that everyone in your dominantly Caucasian circles, EVERYONE, knows who you are, while you might not know everyone’s face in any given circle. Now, for the context of this piece, we’ll take into account the writer’s circle within which both of these women exist, and I will compare it to my job environment. These two women interacted and knew of each other inside the realm of a writer’s group and a writer’s community, a community that I must assume is mostly Caucasian (yes, there were some tidbits in the article from people of seemingly varied races [due to the names associated with each comment], but I do not know [nor do I really care about] the specific makeup of the group as this is a situation between two women of different races, one of them being White).

At my job, I run into an interesting social conundrum wherein all the Caucasians know who I am, but I only vaguely know who they are because we do not work in the same department. Since I wear a name tag and gossip runs rampant, these Caucasians have this social attitude toward me as if they know me, when they haven’t even introduced themselves to me, and we’ve never actually exchanged words. How do I know this? By the way they interact with me … the very. first. time. And it’s the same situation every fucking time, at my job and in my life.

Here’s the sitch: Some White girl thinks that she knows me because she knows OF me, and when you’re, literally, the only Asian inside a workplace, EVERYONE knows OF YOU. This does not mean that they know me or have even spoken to me. After a little while, they become convinced that they DO know me, so they take a stab at a conversation with me. One White girl said to me one day as her very first words ever uttered to me, “Hey, I heard you’re Korean.” To which I responded, “I am Korean.” And then she proceeded to tell me all about how much she loves Korea, and how she’s been to Seoul.

Now, if you’re Caucasian, you’re probably thinking, “What’s the bfd? She’s obviously trying to be nice and friendly.” To which I respond, “No she’s not. She’s being lazy and racist. She heard some gossip about me, specifically about my race, and instead of having anything else, anything at all, more interesting to say to me, she chose to talk to ME (a Global) about my RACE.” When was the last time someone asked you, “Hey, I heard you’re Caucasian. Where in Caucasia are you from?” Fuck you.

Another time, a different (dumbass) white girl whom I don’t know came up to me and said, “OMG Tiffany, the cantaloupe was so good the other day!” To which I responded with a look that said, “Do I know you?” as I said nothing at all in return.

These are a mere TWO examples of an endless list of examples of all the times that Caucasians have assumed our friendship due to our proximity and THEIR hyper-awareness of my existence. This is a situation that has unfolded so many times that this type of interaction makes up the majority of interactions I have with Caucasians.

With that said, it’s obvious to me that the Asian Plagiarist suffers from exactly this sort of relational misinterpretation misinterpreted by the Caucasian White. I only say this through the desperation with which the Caucasian White reached out to the Asian Plagiarist when the Asian Plagiarist “failed” to treat the White as a friend by acknowledging her organ transplant. And honestly, when I read this bit of the article, I was shocked by the entitlement and obviously pathetic desperation of the White … until I remembered an interaction or two that I’ve had with older Caucasian White women, most notably my former supervisor.

I began my job earlier this year, and at that time, I had a supervisor who trained me for two days and then left for a two-week vacation. While she was away, I killed it, worked my way out of the six-week probationary pay period after my first week, was met by the corporate head who patted me on the back and told me to keep up the good work and that I was well on my way to a promotion. When my supervisor returned, her first words to me were, “Did you think of me?” To which I responded, “No. Why would I?”

She “trained” me over two shifts, and then went off and left me in a lurch while thinking to herself during her vacation that I must be thinking of her? Why would she think this?

Then, the following weekend, when I arrived at work, she greeted me in a very hostile tone, which I suspected was due to her finding out about my success while she was away, “Morning. How are you?” to which I responded, “Fine.” To which she responded in an even louder, more hostile tone, “Fine?! You’re fine?! I haven’t seen you all week, and there’s nothing else you want to tell me?” To which I responded, “No. But is there something you want to tell me?” And then she walked away in a rage. I was thoroughly confused. And then she undertook the task of attempting to make my life tritely miserable, hoping that I’d fold and quit like the half-dozen or so former coworkers who quit, making way for my arrival.

My strategy was simply to report everything she did “her own way” to HR, and after “management” (and I use quotes here because they are not managers so much as lifers who have not quit) slowly forced her to conform to corporate standards, she quit in early September. But I digress.

My point with these “anecdotes from the office,” is that I routinely ruffle the feathers of White women because they feel entitled to something about me. My Caucasian White mother treated me the same way. I do not fully understand what it is exactly that they feel entitled to, but it must be, in my mind, something about how they see themselves as socially superior (whether or not this is conscious is the determinate between a White Supremacist [like my supervisor] and a mere White Dumbass [not innately harmful but the potential for harm is infinite]) to “people of color,” because that’s what they’ve been taught over and over and over again-that they are better than all others (even other Caucasians), Globals included. This is, obviously, not true. The reverse is something more like the Truth (when considering the monolingual nature of American Caucasians), but that’s neither here nor there. Nevertheless, there is some ugly rationale for their social superiority, which has never really made sense to me if you simply look at an “attractive” Caucasian and an attractive Global standing side by side (and yes, ik that this is the time when you call me “racist”-have at it) that makes them entitled to my social life and time.

Like … I get it. It must be tough to be a Caucasian woman and watch as the most powerful men on Earth (White Men, duh) choose, time and time again, Global women. Yea, sure, obviously, there are beautiful Caucasian women, and there are seriously hella-fucking beautiful Global women. No offense. I’m a racist! You got me.

In the end, my point is merely that this seems like a typical entitled Caucasian White woman being upset that some Asian woman doesn’t consider her perception of a “friendship” a friendship. This is something that has happened to me more times than I can count. However, I’m not so stupid to fucking COPY-AND-PASTE someone else’s text right off the internet with the intent to use it for anything else other than a direct quote. Like seriously? As a writer? How fucking stupid do you have to be? Damn.

Originally published at http://ladypolarity.wordpress.com on October 11, 2021.