Satisfaction

Written by Helen, Minneapolis

“You need to dress more girly” … “You need to get boys to like you”  … “You can only have straight hair” … “You have to start wearing makeup” … “You need to be skinny” … “You can’t be too dark” … “You need to be seen as one of the pretty girls” … “You have to be less ‘different’ to fit in with the other girls.” 

This was the sixth grade. Above are the messages I was told at age eleven. Oh, and the backlash got worse: I was going into a predominantly white high school in the suburbs where no one else looked like me. My entire reputation from that day on was solely based on my outward appearance, and consequently, what others perceived that to mean about me. 

All my girl-friends were loud, opinionated, and stereotypically pretty. But me…  I was quiet, tried too hard to fit in, and, based on what all the boys said: ugly. 

The boys both inside and outside of school would always have something to say about my looks. It didn’t help my chances that I was being compared to other girls that were tall and skinny, with light blue or green eyes, and straight blonde hair. 

Me on the other hand? I’m only five feet tall, have brown eyes, damaged curly hair, wore hand-me-down clothes, and had a gap in my teeth. 

My only siblings are two brothers, and they could never understand what I was going through: my entire life I always hated being a girl. I hated that I was never good enough at my school, and, to add insult to injury, I always felt that I was never good enough in my own culture. 

“Why are you so dark?” … “You need to be with an Asian man” … “No, you need to be with an American man” … “Speak your language” … “Respect your elders and the men providing for you” … “You need to have a good career”  … “You need to make a lot of money” … “Don’t dress like that, look normal.”

I am a mixed, Vietnamese woman. My mom is Vietnamese and Black and my dad is Vietnamese and white. 

My complexion is darker than the normal Vietnamese girl and my curly, untamed hair is nowhere near comparable to the thick, straight, black hair of most other Vietnamese girls. 

So, imagine. Imagine a kid going through her entire childhood and adolescence constantly being treated differently just because of how she looked. And on top of that, she was always being compared to other females who were deemed better than her. 

I was never pretty enough in the Vietnamese women’s standards and I was never pretty enough in the American women’s standards. 

And the sad thing is, this is only a fraction of the burdens I carry as an Asian-American woman.

Because of my need to be the “perfect” girl, I told myself: “Be nice and never mean… Always smile at people and say thank you… Get the best grades and make the varsity teams.” 

From suppressing my voice and culture as a mixed, Asian woman, I endured harassment, physical, mental, and emotional abuse from both men and women. All because I believed that no one wanted to be friends with an Asian girl who spoke her mind. 

My exes would tell me: “You’re a girl, you can’t wear that… You’re not allowed to hang out with your guy friends… No, you are not allowed to pay for anything. A man is supposed to pay for everything… You’re crazy I did nothing wrong… Stop being psycho.”

And my ex-friends would tell me: “Girl, that is so ugly… We’re hanging out with some guys today. I need you to dress better… Do you have anything to eat besides Asian food? … If you’re Vietnamese, why are you darker and look different than everyone else?” 

It wasn't until I went to college that I started to gather my voice and stand up for myself. But, I still had trust issues with regards to how people treated me, especially with men and other Asian women.

I did have a confidence boost though. I was able to fix my gap. And I fixed my mindset: I told myself not to keep a grudge against others from my past, and I left the city that caused me so much stress. I was able to restart, and begin anew. Going to college was something I desperately needed. 

College was a place where I found people who accepted me for who I was, no matter what I looked like or how I acted. I am grateful for those friendships and for the experiences I was able to have, but college was not a perfect environment: I was still treated poorly by others. 

In the 4 years I spent there, I learned to stand up for myself as an Asian woman, but also as a woman in general. 

I’ve dealt with men who believe women can not survive hardships. I’ve also dealt with men who spoke to me and others in a condescending way only because we were women. I’ve experienced prejudice from my own people and other BIPOC; and I experienced constant bias from racist teachers, classmates, and co-workers. 

Over the years I have learned that I have to work exponentially harder to be in the same position as others with more privilege. 

So, let us rewind: 

From middle school and all the way through college, imagine how exhausting, frustrating, and damaging  it was for me to be taking ten more steps to be in the same spot as someone who just has to take one. 

I was constantly taking steps to be a better woman; to be financially acceptable in a rich white school; to fit in with both Asian and American culture; to hold others accountable for what they say about Asian women; to impress and make my Asian family proud and to have my white peers notice my work; to have an income as well as maintain perfect grades; and to be the “perfect” Asian-American woman with a degree. 

To this day I am still struggling to make my voice as an Asian-American woman matter. I tell myself that I can not sit back and relax like others. I have to keep trying to climb to the top until I am satisfied with the end result. 

I hope that one day I will be able to take a step back and relax like everyone else who has the luxury to not worry about every aspect of their life. 

But until that day comes, I will remain out of my comfort zone, and I will keep trying to be more proud of my identity as a mixed, Asian-American woman.