My aunt comes to New York at least once each year for about two to three months to visit her son and help him take care of his son… since he expects his mother to take care of his child. She also comes to meet with all of her JW friends and treat them to meals here and there. I can count on one hand the number of times I have met my aunt for a meal during her visit, and it was just the two of us dining together. She will inevitably always bring at least one or two other JW “sisters” and treat them to lunch or dinner with us. I can almost bet each time that it will happen.

So today, after mentoring, Chris and I went down to Chinatown to meet her for dim sum. Of course, she brought two JW friends, and they made friendly, superficial talk with us. I’m sure, as all Chinese relatives and people always are, that they were very amused that my fiance is not Chinese, and that he’s actually brown-skinned. They asked him (and me) the usual, ignorant Chinese-person questions that are directed at a non-Chinese person who has any type of relationship with someone like me, who is Chinese: “Do you like Chinese food?” “Do you cook Chinese food for him?” They talked about Singapore and Malaysia, and of course they were shocked when Chris said his dad was actually raised in Malaysia, and Chris himself had visited both countries a number of times. Chris even reminded me that my mom still asks him if he eats Chinese food now, after years of knowing him and feeding him.

Oh, Asians. I guess I get a similar reaction from his Indian relatives when they hear that I not only eat and love eating Indian food, but I’ve actually cooked some of the most complex and authentic dishes right in our own dinky Manhattan kitchen. That’s right, bitches. I’ve made dosa and appam! And I’m not Indian!!