We Asians Have To Stick Together... Or DO We?

At the suggestion of my white boyfriend's white mom, I finally hung out with the only other Asian in my new south suburban neighborhood. When she first suggested the activity to me, I asked, "Um, why?” She said Asians have to stick together. Maybe she knows something I don't. Is there an imminent attack planned on Asians by The Man, and because my boyfriend's mom has a soft spot for me, she's not-too-subtly giving me hints about this impending blitzkrieg? I don't know. I didn't want to tempt fate, so I hung out with this nice Asian lady and her pit bull.

I thought it was going to be pretty eventful, since I keep hearing about flocks of Asians hanging out together and how awesome it is to be called "The Asian Invasion," but to be honest... it was really dull. In fact, it was flat-out upsetting. The day started out pretty low-key. We went shopping at Target. I pointed out several cute sweaters and interesting pieces of cookware while she glared and grunted at some notable pieces that she either liked or didn't agree with – I couldn't tell. Afterwards, we stopped by the Oriental store because she needed to pick up some more pan de sal (bread rolls). She also picked up some Filipino soap operas on Beta. Classy Sassy.

Then we went back to her house and baked. She talked shit about her family and friends and wired some money back home to the Philippines. Then we sat down and watched “Real Housewives of Atlanta.” I didn't want to be rude, so I said, "Um, this is boring." She responded by mumbling, "Napaalalahanan mo ako ng aking walang utang na loob na pamangking babae." Now, being a first generation Filipino-American, my Tagalog is a bit rusty, but I'm pretty sure she said, "You remind me of my ungrateful niece." Not wanting to completely set off the Filipino time bomb that absolutely all middle aged Filipina ladies have ticking inside their tapered pants, I said, "Cooooool."

Suddenly, she stood up and urgently shuffled around the TV while waving her hands and said, "Ay! You must eat! Gutum ka (Are you hungry)??" Still not wanting to set off the Filipino time bomb, I threw up my arms and shouted, "YES!!!" She proceeded to fry a whole pot of fish and eggrolls. Then she sat down and watched me eat.

I figured that was the high point of our day, so I thanked her for the impromptu feast and hugged her awkwardly as I stepped out of her house and shuffled back to mine. On the walk back home, I realized why I don't like hanging out with other Asians: I get enough Asianess from my FAMILY! The excessive cooking of fried foods and hawkeye action while I'm eating is totally my grandma. The penchant for crappy and overwrought soap operas (redundant?) is my aunt. The blatant and rude honesty is my other aunt. The passive aggressiveness is my other aunt. The oddly disconnected shopping experience and short temper is my mom – and yet another aunt. The talking of shit about friends and family is ... well, that's ... that's everyone in the family. Anywhoo, if I get enough of that craziness from family, why would I possibly want to seek that nuttiness outside of the familial circle?

Now don't get me wrong. I love my family. The Filipino blood that courses through my veins dictates that I naturally spend a lot of my time with them and love them unconditionally – which is why I don't hang out with them unless completely obligated.

Now I have to somehow explain this reasoning to my white boyfriend's white mom, who is awaiting a report on my day with my Asian neighbor. Maybe I can explain after I tell her about this nice, random white lady I met at the Jewel I think would be darling for her to hang out with.