Silent no more

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It’s always fun when you have a relative who is so opposite of your political beliefs that you have to keep quiet about politics every time you are around him. But it will inevitably get to a breaking point when things get a little too personal, and you realize he has crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

With Trump’s ban on refugees and visitors coming in from seven predominantly Muslim countries also comes the required detainment of U.S. Green Card holders and even employees OF the U.S. government in the last few days. U.S. Green Card holders, for those who are unaware, are people who have been interviewed, scrutinized, background-checked so many times that they basically feel dehumanized by the time they are even granted the privilege of attaining their permanent-resident status in the U.S. How do I know this? My husband is a fucking U.S. Green Card holder, and I’ve had to stand in baggage claim waiting for him multiple times as we’ve returned to this country from holidays as he’s had his Green Card and temporary Green Card status (yes, because that comes before you actually get the freaking Green Card) scrutinized, and as he’s been detained and ordered and yelled at to leave the U.S. Customs area to a back office room to be questioned over and over. The abuse of power of Customs Border Control is ridiculous; if you just look at them the wrong way, they could pull you aside and detain you for hours, and you aren’t even allowed to ask why or how. You have no rights. Do what you are told, just like a dog.

So, you can imagine my immediate wrath when my uncle says before family dinner begins tonight that banning or detaining even U.S. Green Card holders is “actually not stupid” and “a good idea.” “Even they (Green Card holders) cannot be trusted,” he said matter-of-factly. That was when I went nuts, raised my voice, and said he was wrong. These people have been checked multiple times and are legitimate residents of this country. Why should they be put under extra scrutiny? Chris is a U.S. Green Card holder. Do you think he poses a danger to this country? “He’s an exception,” my uncle argued. Of course he is. The people you know and like are the exception; everyone else is a potential terrorist. Isn’t that just so convenient? The people who have committed these terrorist attacks are not even from the countries on that list of seven; his firm response? “No, you’re wrong.” That’s everyone’s favorite response. Actually, my cousin and I both countered and said that the terrorists responsible for 9/11 were from countries not on that list – Pakistan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia. No response from our uncle. No counter of “you’re wrong” here, huh?

When we create exceptions, when we say things like “Chris is an exception” because we know him and like him, when we say “I’m not homophobic. One of my closest friends is gay,” when we say that we aren’t racist because “some of my best friends are black/Korean/Middle Eastern,” that’s when we know we believe the majority of whatever targeted minority group deserves the oppression they face, and that is unjust and inhumane. When did we, the idiots saying things like this, become morally or ethically superior to these targeted individuals? In my uncle’s case, it is the saddest to me because he is the child of immigrants who worked hard to come to the U.S. to give their children a better life and future than what they had back in China. Sure, their English wasn’t perfect, and yes, they weren’t educated, but they allowed their kids to get educated in the U.S. and have better lives than what they had. Has all that been completely forgotten, or has he taken all that for granted and decided he just wants to abuse his power as someone working for Customs and make the lives of all future immigrants who get in his line at Border Control miserable and bleak? How can you completely forget where you’ve come from and your own roots?

This has been a truly embarrassing week for me to know that I have relatives like this.

Warm bedroom

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It’s rare to wake up in my parents’ house and feel warm. Because the house is old and has no insulation, it’s constantly at least 10 degrees below what we consider “room temperature,” if even that. My parents have gotten so used to it that when a room actually is 68 degrees, they think it’s hot. But what has changed over the last year is that my mom has actually felt more and more cold, so they’ve finally been taking advantage of the central heat they installed years ago. I’ve been waking up the last two days feeling warm and cozy, even after I remove my bed covers and expose my arms to the world outside my bed. This felt very unusual and not “normal” for this house.

This momentarily made me angry this morning, though, as I remember Ed used to complain constantly about how cold the house was. Ed’s needs were never taken seriously, so our dad would reject it when Ed would say he wanted to turn the heat on. “Go put on a sweater!” our dad would yell. Then there would be the passive aggressive turn-on, turn-off battle between Ed and my dad. It really was so childish that it was embarrassing to witness. Ed would turn the heat on. Dad would complain and say no heat was needed (mainly because he didn’t want to spend the money on the heat. Isn’t money the main reason to not do most things in life?) and flip the switch off. Ed would go back and turn it on. The battle would ensue for as long as the two of them were home together. Or, occasionally I would insist the heat should be on, as I usually tried to side with Ed, and our dad would begrudgingly leave it on until he felt the house was warm enough, and then switch it off. Unfortunately, that never worked out because this house refuses to retain heat, so the house would just get cold again.

If you cannot be warm and comfortable in your own home, where are you supposed to be comfortable? Or in this case, Ed was never treated like he was a true, worthy part of this house, so his comfort was disregarded and ignored. And now because he’s dead, he’s never coming back to enjoy this warmth that I now have a chance to wake up to here.

Trump’s rise is America’s downfall

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In less than a week since his unsightly inauguration, President Dipshit has already caused a stir; he’s really whipped out his balls by issuing all kinds of executive actions, ranging from “extreme vetting” of refugees, a threat to eventually pull Visa Waiver Entry from countries that are currently on friendly terms with the U.S. (that includes Australia… boy, can’t wait for this crap to begin and for these countries to retaliate and make my travel life hell), the revival of the anti-Native American Dakota Access pipeline (and the Keystone XL pipeline); he’s announced that the U.S.-Mexico border wall is the real deal, and that Mexico WILL be paying for it (just… you know, us taxpayers will pay for it first to then get reimbursed later); the “Mexico City Policy” will be reinstated to ban federal funds to international groups that perform abortions or lobby to legalize abortion. I can’t even go through the entire list. My blood pressure has already gone up listing just these!
And because his ego is so easily and quickly damaged, he had his idiot press secretary hold a press conference insisting that his inauguration crowds were, in fact, large, and that the comparisons that were being drawn to Obama’s inaugurations were inaccurate and misrepresenting the extreme popularity of Dipshit. Clearly, he has the priorities of the country in mind when wasting everyone’s time with his deflated ego. And Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto announced that Mexico officially will NOT pay for the stupid wall no matter what, and has also cancelled the meeting he had scheduled with Dipshit. Trump went back and said they mutually agreed to cancel. If anyone thinks that’s the truth, they must believe in “alternative facts” that are quite popular today.

The latest news is that at least six state department officials have resigned from their posts, refusing to work under a Trump administration. I don’t blame them; I’d feel major ethical qualms about my own character if I had to work for someone as openly racist, sexist, xenophobic, and politically inexperienced as this turd. All I feel is embarrassment and anger as a U.S. citizen. It has been a rough start to 2017 when I’ve been trying really hard to be hopeful and keep my head up. This country was supposed to be a nation of immigrants, a country of open-mindedness, freedom, acceptance of new and different ideas and philosophies. Instead, Dipshit is taking this country into the direction of becoming isolationist, xenophobic, and ultimately unwelcoming to people who are not white skinned and light haired. How can any rational American, educated or uneducated, rich or poor, light skinned or dark skinned, be proud to see these news headlines today? I just cannot wrap my head around it and have been in a constant state of “I have no words.”

THIS IS 2017. HOW CAN WE BRING CHILDREN INTO THIS WORLD?

 

Normalcy

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In the late morning today, I sat in the Intercontinental hotel lounge while working, waiting for my parents to pick me up. My mom was hell bent on taking me to one of her favorite Vietnamese restaurants in the Tenderloin, which I admit is good, but is on the dodgiest street and has questionable sanitation based on the latest San Francisco health violations report. Then, we’d eventually go home to that cold house on the hill in the Richmond which I have so many negative associations with; “home sweet home,” as some would call it.

This is what I am used to now, as my friend marveled yesterday, a life of four- to five-star hotels, travel, and most importantly… freedom; freedom from having every action I do get scrutinized and criticized, freedom from being told that my showers are too long or that I’m using too much toilet paper or that the brownies I made are too sweet and bad for my parents’ health (even when they asked me to make them). Life now is a strong contrast to what it used to be while living under their roof and their senseless, suffocating, and irrational rules. My “normal” now is vastly different from my “normal” as a child growing up in this house.

That’s why it’s always so frustrating and embarrassing every time I come home and get reminded endlessly of all the insipid things that happen in this house: the constant food waste because they both insist on cooking enough food for 6-8 people when it’s just the two of them; the shower head that won’t adjust to pull down because my dad is too cheap to get a removable shower head installed, the kitchen that was technically expanded but never fully finished because he decided to put the project on hold.. for the last seven years; the piles of junk he’s accumulated from ex-tenants who never cleared out their apartments (that he insists on bringing home) and the hoarding from Craigslist; the constant sorting of “compost waste” from paper from plastic as what appears to be a daily hobby, or in my eyes, a complete and stupid waste of time; my parents eating dinner “together” while my father sits at his computer like a child and watches YouTube videos while my mother actually sits at the table eating by herself. Other than the carpet that my mother had installed 17 years ago and some cheap plastic “dressers” in the two bedrooms, this house is almost exactly like what it was when my dad was a teenager; slightly dilapidated, completely free from renovation, and freezing as hell. He never moved out of his parents’ house. This house is pretty much exactly the same as then.

But this is what is “normal” to them. It’s “normal” for them to sit like that at the dinner table. It’s normal to have a peeling kitchen counter when they could afford to have it replaced. It’s normal for them to hoard junk so that beds and chairs are no longer places where you can sit or lie down without clearing everything off them for five minutes.

My version of “normal” was once that, but even as a young child, I knew so many things here were not normal. I know that the “normal” I have in my mind now will never, ever be achievable in this house with them. Ed tried to believe he could somehow get there, and he realized at the end of his life it was impossible. The only way to have a “normal” life is to separate myself from all this as much as possible.

Thank God Chris comes here for work, otherwise I’d have zero buffer and zero normalcy.

 

La-dee-da

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I set up time today to meet with a friend at a nearby coffee shop to the hotel where Chris and I are staying at in downtown San Francisco, but after some thought, I realized… why am I asking her to meet me at a crowded coffee shop with terrible acoustics when I could just invite her to the hotel lounge during prime afternoon tea time hour, where she could have access to whatever food and drink she wanted? I called her and asked to meet at the hotel instead, and as soon as she walked into the lounge… I wish I recorded her facial expressions changing. Like me, my friend is very expressive, and she shows all her emotions on her face. I’m sure Chris might have likened it to my face when I first walked into the British Airways International Lounge at JFK airport, when I’d never been into a single airport lounge in my life other than the terrible and bare-bones United lounge in LAX. She was blown away by the food setup, the access to drinks, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, and the overall decor.

“Is this the life you are used to?” my friend marveled, as she sat down to enjoy her just-made latte and crustless mini egg salad sandwiches. “So la-dee-da, aren’t you? I could get used to being you! Can I just stay here even after you leave?”

We ended up staying in the lounge for about three hours, and Chris was even able to join us and meet this friend for the very first time. Chris made the fancy hotel and lounge seem like no big deal, like this was what he was used to given his hectic work travel schedule, and my friend marveled even more. She was not used to this type of travel. And for the longest time, neither was I.

As I thought more about it as we sat down together for that time, I started feeling like somewhat of a disappointment, like a Stepford bride who relies on her husband for all the money and luxuries and pleasures she enjoyed. I don’t get this type of experience or treatment on my own or through my own work; I get these privileges because of the work and accomplishments of my husband. And what’s worse is that he’s had it way harder than me as someone who isn’t even a U.S. citizen and had to prove himself as a foreigner; I’m natively born here and I’m nowhere as accomplished as he is. He’s set in his career and enjoys every minute of it; I’m still wandering around, figuring out what the hell I’m really supposed to be doing and what my purpose is.

These are the first world conflicts of someone who is privileged, or “la dee da” as my friend said.

 

First of many fights

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Every time I come home, I can always anticipate at least one fight for every three days I am here with my mom. They are usually about stupid, inane things that she gets upset about, and here was today’s.

I’m working in downtown today, and Chris picked a restaurant for us to eat at tonight with my parents and aunt. I can’t get through the land line to my parents, and the cell phone is shut off (because they love to keep it off), so I called my aunt to tell her the restaurant address and time to meet, and asked her to tell my parents all this information. She agreed and we hung up.

I called my mom just now, and she’s obviously angry and speaking in an icy tone. “Why didn’t you just leave a message? Why did you have to tell your aunt that we didn’t answer and that you couldn’t get a hold of us and get her all in our personal business? You’re causing all kinds of trouble. All I want is peace. Don’t you realize I’m in pain? I’m in pain!”

She’s always in pain. That’s her excuse for everything.

I never realized that asking my aunt to give my parents a simple message would cause so much anger and resentment in my mom. She yelled and said she only invited my aunt to dinner tonight because my aunt offered to take the whole family out to eat this Saturday. Yep, that’s typical my-mom behavior for you; she feels guilty when someone else does something nice for her or me, so right away (literally, RIGHT AWAY) she has to do something to “pay back” that person. Otherwise, she says she has a “guilty conscience.” That makes a lot of sense. It’s the most unhealthy mindset when someone does something nice for you. Then again, she gets mad about everything, so this just adds to the list.

Evolution of the mind

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When you have been friends with your friends for over two decades, it’s easy either to note the evolution in their characters and beliefs…. or not. Sometimes, we turn a blind eye to our friends’ changes because we want to see them how we always saw them — as the great people we originally loved and became attached to. But for me, I think what’s been a very strange change is seeing one of my closest friends, who I’ve always considered a deep thinker who has shared her feelings, stop doing that and stop probing to find out more about why I think the way I think. Before in high school, she used to always challenge my behavior or voiced opinions. She always cared about the family drama I had to deal with at home. She always seemed to want to understand. Now, she seems to zone out when our third friends asks questions to find out more about anything about me that may be sensitive or personal. It’s like a lesser desired level of understanding. Or maybe she just wants to remove herself from understanding because it takes too much effort, is too tiring because a lot of the facts are negative, or just wants to have more superficial relationships now. I’ll never quite get it.

Water heater out

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Just my luck: the morning before leaving on a flight to go home, the water heater in our apartment building broke and needed to be fixed, and I couldn’t shower before heading to the airport. I rushed through security and arrived at the AA lounge to find out that both of the two showers were occupied and would not be free until about half an hour from that point — that was only fifteen minutes before boarding. When I got notified that the shower was cleaned and ready, I had a quick shower, washed my hair, and dashed off to board the plane. I got there at the exact time boarding for business class began.

It’s funny to see how my flying habits have evolved. Before Chris, I didn’t even know airport lounges existed (if I passed them, I’d just ignore them since they were then irrelevant to me). Now, I take advantage of them and their showers when I can, and especially in events where the apartment is having issues. These are like the secret habits of the privileged jet setting to all areas of the earth in luxury. I’ve become spoiled. And my parents are even used to hearing about my upgrades and just expect me to get seated in business class. When they pick me up from the airport now, one of the first questions they will ask me is “did you get upgraded?”, followed by, “what did they serve you to eat?”

Whole Foods meat and fish guys

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If there’s one thing I can consistently say about service levels at grocery stores in New York, it’s that in general, workers are rarely that helpful, especially when you ask questions about very specific, niche items, or you have questions regarding this fish type’s characteristics over another variety of fish. But the thing that always makes me happy is going to the meat and fish section of Whole Foods and getting served. I don’t know if the guys there just think I’m cute, but I always get good service and any and all of my questions answered in a friendly manner. Today, I came in to purchase the pork butt that was on sale in hopes of making a bo ssam slow roasted pork in a couple weeks, and the man helping me cut me a piece that was the exact weight I wanted. He even offered to do additional things to the piece of meat which I didn’t need and declined. If only all grocery store service could be at this level, then grocery shopping would be so much more pleasurable.

Queens “ghetto”

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I’ve been living in New York for eight and a half years now, and since I lived in Queens for my first four (and not in the trendy areas of Long Island City or Astoria), I’m used to hearing all the backlash and negative reactions people have to Queens as a borough. To so many (white) people who are in New York, there’s really just Manhattan and Brooklyn, and that’s it.

Yet I actually was surprised yesterday night when I was at my mentoring session for foster kids when one of the Latina mentors said she was born and raised in Jackson Heights, a neighborhood in Queens, and still lived there, but had a very negative reaction when I told her I lived in Elmhurst for four years. Her face turned sour and she asked me if I liked living there. I said I really liked it a lot, still missed the food, but I much prefer the quick commute of living on the Upper East Side and the convenience of being in Manhattan. She asked me if I ever witnessed any crime, and I said no; my neighborhood was full of families, mostly Asian, Latino, and white.

She told me that growing up, she and everyone she knew in Jackson Heights always considered Elmhurst the “ghetto,” the area that was crime-ridden that no one ever wanted to go to. That’s so odd to me, I said to her. East Elmhurst has a lot of crime (and is really only accessible by car or bus), but that’s a very different neighborhood than Elmhurst, which is accessible by the R/M yellow train line that I used to take. She didn’t seem to know the difference and said that she wasn’t a fan of Elmhurst. What about Corona (the actual neighborhood next to East Elmhurst that is known for violent crime)? Her face completely went off. “That place is bad, really bad. I would never even consider going there!”

First, there was the negative reaction against Queens as a borough. Now, I’m getting negative reactions for Elmhurst supposedly being a dangerous and crime-ridden neighborhood from someone who lives in Jackson Heights, which is only two subway stops away from my old stop in Elmhurst. Yet, this person, despite never having lived anywhere other than Jackson Heights her entire life, doesn’t know the difference between East Elmhurst and Elmhurst as neighborhoods. Ignorance, even in your own borough, is just rampant here. And people are happy to be ignorant and not know what they don’t know and dismiss opinions from people like me who actually have “been around.” I can’t escape it anywhere. It’s no wonder Trump is going to be inaugurated tomorrow.