Y'all Want Some Rice With That?

Growing up a military brat, I was surrounded by diversity. Especially when we lived in Korea and there were many other hapas like me. It was easy to get through nearly my first half of life not giving any thought to whether my physical appearance made me stand out from my friends. Because it didn't. We were all different. I never looked in a mirror and caught myself thinking, "Why, hello, Asian girl! Why can I never tell if your eyes are open or closed? Want some rice?"

(Well, maybe the last part of that. I do love me some rice.)

Anyhoo, moving to Texas was an altogether different story. It started with going to high school in south Dallas. It became more obvious when I went to a university where the Asian population was about seven (the sushi chef, some math professors and me) and I started to notice something was way different.

Case in point, I offer you two photos taken on a boot scootin' night my fish year. Please glance quickly at them and then tell me who stands out like a sore Asian thumb wearing boots and an enormous belt buckle. With her pants hiked way up and needing an eyebrow plucking intervention.

I do wonder what those cowboys thought when they saw this crew of dancers and a lone math professor walking into Denim and Diamonds.

There's an episode of Golden Girls where one of the girls sits on a plane and starts speaking slowly and loudly to the Asian man sitting next to her. He spends the whole flight quietly accommodating her need to talk. It's not until much later in the episode that it's revealed that the guy actually has been able to understand her English the entire time and he, in fact, has a very heavy southern accent.

I can so relate! Most people don't assume I don't speak English (some only assume I am skilled at both chopsticks and nunchucks), but I wonder sometimes if it surprises them that I have a southern accent. And, this accent is not something I give much thought to until I'm out of the south. As in Colorado, for example, and it's only then that I realize I sound very well, southern. Beyond the "y'alls," there is a very distinct drawl I never hear until I'm north of the Mason Dixon. Suddenly I sound like I came with the last name Clampett and a Granny who thinks the South won the Civil War.

And, suddenly, I am aware of two things.

#1...I sound very Texan. #2...I feel very Asian. Funny how, when you mix the two, one makes the other stand out so much more.

Because you see a white girl with a southern accent and you think nothing of it. Or, you see an Asian girl with a Californian accent and no one pays much attention. BUT, you hear an Asian girl fixin to piddle with a do-hicky and you'd think I was three sheets to the wind. We're scarce as teeth on a hen, I tell y'all.

But it's not like I can go back on my raisin'. I am both Asian and Texan and I am proud.

And I am thankful. I give thanks because I can go to my parents house and eat both BBQ chicken and kimchi on the same day. One day, I opened up my parents' fridge to find some yummy kimchi soup. Mmm, there is just no way to put its deliciousness into words. I stood there in the cold fridge doorway and audibly offered thanks to God or my Dad (I don't remember which) for my Mom being Korean.

I do get the best of both worlds, y'all.