Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them, don't sue me
Summary: Gettin' down and dirty with the race issue. It's senior year, and two of the Ducks are trying to tough it out off the ice.
Notes: I only did Kenny Wu and Luis Mendoza because they're the two I can relate to the most.
PRIDE
KENNY WU
"Are you Chinese or Japanese?" Oh for Christ's sake, I'm a damn senior at this school and they still don't now. They come up to me with that god-awful sneer on their faces, and ask in some snooty voice where I'm from. And they just assume I'm Chinese or Japanese. Yeah, I'm Chinese, but for some reason, it always ticks me off when people assume any Asian person they see is Chinese or Japanese. Some of my best friends back in San Francisco are Korean, Vietnamese and Taiwanese. And right now, I'm missing them like hell.
Asians are supposed to be the model minority, and my parents were always pushing me to aspire to that image. Schoolwork always, always came first. I had no social life up until the Goodwill Games. My parents kept me cooped up in the house everyday and forced me to study, hour after hour. If I wasn't studying, I was practicing piano. It took a lot for me to convince them to let me go into ice skating; they were freaked that I might injure my hands and not be able to play piano. Crazy, huh? Man, sparks flew when I went out for hockey. My father really did a number on me that night, and it always amazes me that I made it to my friend's house without passing out.
If you don't know it, Minnesota is Scandinavian heaven. Blonde hair and blue eyes everywhere you turn. There are Asians around, but not in the suburbs where Eden Hall is. There are maybe three other Asians in the entire school, and two of them are adopted, so they can fit in better. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking adopted kids. Some of my best friends are Korean-adopted, but they have the American perspective only. They didn't grow up in a Korean household.
So here I am with my black hair, mud brown eyes and unmistakably Asian face. People look at me oddly in the hallways, not necessarily hostile, but definitely interested. I can't think of any better word. I am an oddity, and I know it all too well. Even on the ice I can't find acceptance. I'm the only Asian out there.
See, there are different types of minorities. For Asians, there are immigrants, who are more inclined to their native customs and cultures, there are adoptees, who grew up in the States and have little or no inclination towards their native heritage, and there are second and third generation kids, like me, who are kind of caught in the middle. I know some Chinese. I can't read it or write it, but I can speak it. My parents speak it at home. When I'm around them, I have to revert back to Chinese custom, but when I leave our apartment, I'm just like any other American kid. I go to the cinema, I chill at the mall, I go to parties.
But I'll never let go of who I am. I'll never lose sight of my heritage. It's going to bring me down in the end, I know it. I'm going to have to choose, and I know when I can't, it's going to tear me apart.
LUIS MENDOZA
My parents came to the States in a wooden boat. At least that's what I've been told. They went to the pier in the middle of the night, boarded the boat with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and along with twenty other families, they crossed into U.S. waters and finally landed in Florida. It took them four years to become naturalized citizens. They had to learn English, had to find jobs, had to get a house. And somewhere along the way, I was born. You'll forgive me for feeling a little guilty.
But they made it. We made it. My parents worked hard, worked long hours, worked graveyard shifts, and today, you'd never know they had been dirt poor at some point in time. We live in a modest, four bedroom apartment, with several of our family members who have since made the journey. There are eight of us to be exact, and it can get hectic, but I wouldn't trade a moment of it. When I'm lying here in my dorm at Eden Hall, I miss home so much.
When I was growing up in Miami, I worked all the time. I worked in groceries, in supermarkets, in drug stores. Any little bit of money helped and I was always trying to help my parents find their feet. I got good grades in school too, and stayed out of trouble. Gangs exist in Miami, although they aren't nearly as prevalent as in L.A. and I had to watch myself, because it was so easy back then to get sucked in. Some of my best friends were in gangs, or were living on the streets. Almost all of them are dead now.
Everything here is hard. People here look at me with disgust. They think I'm a no-good, dirty Mexican who just wants to get some from any woman he can get his hands on. First thing's first. All Hispanics are not Mexicans. I'm from Cuba. Some of my friends are from Bolivia, Ecuador, Peru and Guatemala. Some of them are Mexican. But not all. We all have our own cultures, our own customs, our own words for things. And second, we aren't dirty. We are hard workers, and we earn things like everyone else. Maybe some people get dragged into gang life, but there are Whites who get dragged in too. Just because we're Latino doesn't make us all gangsters. Third, yeah, maybe I'm a flirt, but for real, I'm not looking to get laid. My best friend is an Asian girl who listens to me when I'm having problems and helps me with homework when it gets hard. And my parents are deeply religious, that's why they left Cuba. They take me to church every Sunday, and when I'm down on my knees in front of the cross, I know who I am. Religion is so deeply ingrained in my mind that I can't imagine stepping out of line.
Eden Hall is not kind to Latinos. Girls grab their purses when I walk by, guys give me nasty looks, like they expect me to come up and start groping their girlfriends right in front of them. Teachers are always skeptical of my work, asking me if stuff is really my own. Sometimes people call me names, like puto, which means whore. It's primarily a Mexican term, but people don't realize that. All they know is that it's a derogatory term Hispanics use, and they use it in their own demeaning way.