Eventually every hapa has to come to terms with the brutal reality of life. I am and I realize I did this too late. I don’t have it the wherewithal to raise a child and my distrust in the people around me has surmounted any other feeling.
Even the best of us, if we pass, shouldn’t be idiots and think that life would not be better because of it. (By “it” I mean our white blood). Of course it’s better. We avoid bullying, racism, violence and even the pitfalls of romance and contempt.
It’s kind of a hell, or a limbo. It’s really easy to ignore. We could have all pretended that it was just love between our parents; but then that would ignore the massive disparity in the pairings along racial lines. Maybe it was love.
But the conditions on which love was built was the dismissal of Asian men. Men we easily could resemble with a simple generic nudging. That’s the worst part of it. I can’t really ever take pride in being a Hapa, because all it means is that I’m white enough, through my father, to have a passable life free of agony and pain as is so common in this white supremacist world (I say this not because whites claim they are supreme but that this is unflappable status quo).
Nobody in their right mind will ever admit this. It’s way too uncomfortable so they merely scapegoat a group of men, conveniently a shorter, uglier, less personable group of men. And maybe the stereotypes about them are true; and maybe I have to legitimately accept racism against half of myself. I am good looking, tall and intelligent and I now realize this major hell and how this mental duplicity has made me absolutely crazy over the years.
Frankly if this is life, and I have to make incredible mental compromises just to exist normally, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be alive. I simply cannot cope with the idea that I am given more opportunities simply because half of me dominates; I can’t cope with the idea that my mother’s actions were calculated to give me a better life while my father raised me on the ideals of romance and Christian egalitarianism (well, as far as Christians go).
The people who read this blog should consider themselves lucky that they get to read the active diary of someone destined and willing to die and for better reason than most; hopefully I’ve laid the groundwork as to why. For all the other “positive” Hapas, I say this: you’re privileged enough by your appearance to not even consider what I’m talking about. End of story.