Thursday, February 27, 1997
PREJUDICE:
Television, visual media determine cultural value systems
Out of the blue, I decide to go down to Orange County to visit
my friend G-Dog. We haven’t seen each other in some time and I
thought we should catch up on all the current happenings in our
lives. I ditch some trivial lectures and make the hour-long trek to
my home town, cruising along in my 1984 stale red Nissan Sentra.
The engine whines as I near the 65 mph mark somewhere in the middle
of the 405. I try not to push the car past 70 as my father once
warned me that the engine might explode if I did. The music is
barely audible as I adjust the dial on the radio. I don’t think
digital car radios were available in 1984.
I arrive at UCI and G-Dog offers to give me a tour of his
school. We decide to first get some food at the local In-N-Out.
While munching on my delectable double-double, I notice a group of
Asian youths arrive. Attired in baggy clothing and equipped with
all sorts of paging devices, these youngsters don’t appear as
threatening as the news reports make them out to be. I invite them
over to my table for conversation and we all have a grand old time
over burgers and soda.
After lunch, G-Dog and I head to campus. On the way, a souped-
up Acura pulls up beside us. However, we’re shocked to discover two
teenage Caucasian girls in the front seats. I suppose not all
Asians drive Hondas and Acuras. The ladies challenge us to an
old-fashioned street race, but my Betsy can only keep up for a few
seconds. The girls in the Acura leave us in a flash.
G-Dog shows me the various lecture halls around his campus. I
don’t particularly like pastel-colored buildings, though. Royce
Hall still kicks ass when compared to the avant-garde designs of
UCI’s facilities. I see a lot of interracial couples walking around
 white guys and Asian girls. G-Dog tells me it’s a trend and
that some Asian guys don’t think too highly of the white
"Asianphile menace." I comment that the couples look happy, and
either way, it’s none of my business. Besides, I’m an Asianphile,
too. I really dig my Asian sisters. I ask G-Dog about the purported
Chinese Conspiracy at UCI. I look around and notice a lot of Asian
people, even some Chinese individuals speaking their native
Mandarin in a sing-song rhythm. However, I don’t find any evidence
for a concerted, hostile Chinese takeover of UCI, or any of the
other UCs.
It’s dark by the time we start the trip back to G-Dog’s
apartment. We’re driving steadily along Jamboree in the heart of
Irvine until a cop pulls us over. I remember that I’m driving an
old sedan and not some expensive sports car, so I wonder why my
presence in Irvine at night would arouse suspicion. The peace
officer tells me that the backwards baseball cap on my head in
addition to my Asian features matched the profile of some gangsters
he was looking for. He tells me I should wear my cap the right way.
I tell him to "fuck off," but that’s as far as our conversation
goes.
Back at the Dog house, I make myself comfortable as G scours the
television airwaves for something interesting to watch. He asks how
the last UCLA basketball game went. I can’t give him an answer
because the local cable company doesn’t provide Fox Sports West 2.
We want to go hang out somewhere around town, but I don’t want to
get pulled over again.
Instead, we watch "Grave of the Fireflies," a Japanese animated
tragedy about two children caught in the turmoil of WWII. The film
packed an incredibly powerful emotional kick. I enjoyed it a lot,
but G-Dog was still waiting for the giant robots and naked
green-haired girls. I tried to explain that Japanese Anime is a
legitimate form of story-telling, but it’s late and an exhausted
body forces me to sleep.
G has an early class the next morning. I wake up around 1:00
p.m. and flip on the television. The syndicated channel is showing
a repeat of "The Karate Kid." I wince as Mr. Miyagi goes on-screen,
his affected accent and cultural awkwardness confining him forever
to the status of a glorified nip. I watch the movie, though, for
the scene at the end where Ralph Macchio punks the Aryan bully with
the Flamingo Kick. Unbelievably, it still gets my adrenaline
going.
G-Dog and I grab a quick lunch after he gets back. I’ve already
missed two days of class and I want to return to Westwood with
enough time to do my Chinese homework. Back on the 405, I get
rear-ended by a middle-aged European man. I expected to see an old
person, a young teen, or an Asian of any age climb out of the car.
But surprisingly, middle-aged European men make lousy drivers,
too.
I make it back to my apartment by 9 p.m. I don’t start my
homework until midnight. The final section of the Chinese
assignment asks me to write a few sentences describing the people
in my country. The question deserves more than just a flimsy
response, so I take a short 30 minute break and go channel hopping
on my television set to clear my mind.
"Cops" is on and I see the police arrest another black man. I
think he was working as a pimp daddy, but I don’t stay with the
show long enough to confirm. I pick up the day’s edition of the Los
Angeles Times and see a picture of a Hispanic family above a
caption describing the problem of illegal immigration in
California.
I remember an English composition course in which we studied how
literature had a narrative power to mold individuals’ conceptions
of culture, ethnicity and gender. In our non-literary era, the
television and other forms of eye-catching media have replaced the
novel as the purveyor of cultural truths regarding race and
sex.
I see black people portrayed in the media as crack-heads,
criminals and athletes. I see Hispanics categorized as illegal
aliens in our country. I see Asians…well, I don’t see many Asians
in the media.
Cuba Gooding, Jr. recently earned an Oscar nomination for his
performance in Jerry Maguire. But Christ, he had to play a wide
receiver to do it. So I’m surprised when I have a black calculus TA
who is also a Harvard alumni. I doubt she needed affirmative action
to get into UCLA. And I’m just as amazed when I read a Latino
classmate’s analytic paper and realize how much superior it is to
mine. The simple fact that I’m taken aback by these revelations
indicates that I’m just as misguided as the flamboyant, hooded
racists I hate.
I wanted to say something positive and upbeat in my Chinese
homework, but all I could think of to write down is that in this
country, we tend to be prejudiced, intolerant and ignorant.