Asian Sterotypes

I am Korean, which means that I am Asian. And that everyone thinks that I am Chinese.

People have different thoughts and opinions about us Asians. Of course, in there are those who openly joke you about your Asian characteristics, and those who are too “polite” to do so.

I have heard every sterotype that there is for Asians. The squinty eyes, the skill in mathematics, and apparently no skill in driving. I have no idea why that last one is a thing, but I’ve heard it before.

And about the math thing: I am below average at math. Not the type of below average like the average kid. Of course I’m way smarter than that. I mean below average as in Asian average. I see kids who take AP Calculus AB in their sophomore year in high school (my brother). I am no way that good at math.

I’m just a kid who goes along with the math courses that are ordinarily given to the kids in my grade. I just don’t pursue it like other Asians because I am partially lazy and I know that there will always be some other person who is way better than me at that stuff.

One time, a girl who was a grade ahead of me came to me with her math homework and asked me if I knew how to do it. I was so embarrassed when I didn’t know how to do it like my Asian heritage indicated. It was some simple stuff, too. I just don’t like going out of my way just to do math. I’m not that type of Asian.

Anyways, after I moved to Florida, I’ve been hearing a lot less Asian jokes. I used to live in Mississippi, where it was much less liberal and people weren’t shy in voicing their opinions against us minorities. I decided that I liked conservative Mississippi better than liberal Florida because I just don’t like too liberal ideas. But that’s a topic for another time.

That’s pretty much it.

Have a nice day.

-Hank

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Fly Genocide

It was late at night, and the lights in the room flickered softly I was sprawled out on my bed, immersed into a book.

A faint buzzing noise could be heard in the background, but I did not pay any particular attention to it. Its volume increased and decreased sporadically, as the source moved around the room. Occasionally, the buzzing stopped for a tad, only to resume a minute later with greater intensity.

In the back of my head, I acknowledged its presence, but I was too engrossed within the book to properly be irritated at this disturbance. And so I continued reading.

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