Chink Bitch
Many years ago, the road manager for a very famous band called me a chink bitch and waited for me to go away. I’m still here.
Journalist, Author & Syndicated Columnist
Many years ago, the road manager for a very famous band called me a chink bitch and waited for me to go away. I’m still here.
• At 4, I wondered what a chink bitch was.
• At 5, I came home from kindergarten singing, “Chink-a-chink-a Chinaman, sitting on a fence.”
• At 6, I watched in horror as a blond boy called my father a motherfucking gook.
There was a little boy sitting nervously on his bicycle as my dad talked to him. The boy had called my father a chink, and my father was calmly explaining that it wasn’t a nice thing to say, and that his parents would be disappointed to hear him say that to an adult. (Who’re we kidding? We all know that this kid probably learned to be a racist at home. But my father was giving him the benefit of the doubt.)
Jeremy Lin is riding a well-deserved wave of goodwill and adulation. After being undrafted and waived by not one, but two, NBA teams last year–the 23-year-old point guard for the New York Knicks has become the sport’s latest sensation. And Asian Americans are loving it. Each time Lin shows off his skills on the basketball court or does an on-air interview where—surprise!–he has no accent, he helps Asian Americans get one step closer to being accepted as “real” Americans.