My name is Grace Kim.
It’s a beautiful evening, and the world’s finally cooling down after a typically hot February day. Irene, my sister, and I are leaving Thuthuka’s apartment block after having picked him up from the airport. Irene’s driving. She edges slowly out of the driveway, watching the traffic in the busy main road. I hear a group of students chatting loudly towards us, and turn my head to watch them while Irene concentrates on the road. Most of them stop at the edge of the driveway, waiting for us to go ahead. One guy doesn’t. Just as he’s about to walk in front of the car, his girlfriend anxiously yanks his arm: “Babe, she didn’t see you”.
“No, ‘cause she wasn’t looking. Fucking Chinese”, he retorts loudly, pulling away from her.
I am a stereotype.
My sister and I are too stunned to say anything. We drive home in silence. Inside, a brood of ugly emotions start rearing their heads. I am pissed off. Angry. Mad. Furious. Fuming. Sad. Disheartened. Discouraged. Hurt.
To be honest, a comment like this shouldn’t affect me as much as it did. A South Korean national, I have lived in South Africa since I was two, and have long considered South Africa home. However, my physical appearance is a visible signal of difference, with the result that I am often on the receiving end of well-meant questions implying that here is where I do not belong, or less benevolent “Chinese” comments shouted by puerile teenagers. As a racial minority in South Africa, I’ve often been subject to minor forms of prejudice and racial stereotyping by people who perceive me as an ‘outsider’, but the sheer bias and venom expressed in this new incident broke me in a way none of the other ones had.
The thought that never left me was the most lasting one: Why. The. Hell. Had. I. Not. Said. Anything.
Unintentionally, my silence at this guy’s words is an illustration of the silencing power of stereotypes. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s useful insight about the problem of stereotypes is “not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story ”. Imbedded in this notion of the ‘only story’ is the relationship-shaping factor of power. Human beings rarely tell one story about themselves – they are far too complex for that. An ‘only story’ is told and retold about people by other people. Adichie adds that “power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person”. And stereotypes are that powerful. They can, and do, define, categorize, and shape one person’s relationship with another.
Ironically, it is precisely for their definitive ability that stereotypes are so often used. Stereotypes are handy tools because they help us categorize reality into segments our brains can utilize in making sense of the complex world we live in. As Chinua Achebe points out: “The whole idea of a stereotype is to simplify. Instead of going through the problem of all this great diversity – that it’s this or maybe that – you have just one large statement; It is this”. It is, after all, easier to remember the 5 jocks, 2 engineers, and 3 artists that were at the party, rather than each of the 10 different individuals. The danger is when these stereotypes come to be the only things that represent another individual, as is often the case when we allow ourselves to be content that our ideas about someone actually constitute that person.
Although it’s not pleasant being so often and so easily stereotyped, the experiences that I have undergone have made an indelible impact on me. I remember telling a good friend about this incident, and his response was that I shouldn’t take it personally. He meant it kindly, making a point that if it hadn’t been a f***ing Chinese who was driving at that point, it could’ve been a f***ing blonde, or an f***ing ou man. Let me say from the outset that I agree that there is a danger in taking like this so personally that we walk around with huge chips on our shoulders about ourselves and others. Yet, there is a measure to which we must take situations like this personally – and I must, and I will in this case. One of the conditions of being human is such: only when I am personally affected, will I be moved enough to take action.
The morning after, I woke up with a heavy heart, but one that was also determined. The night before, I’d been toying with the idea of leaving the country permanently when I go to England at the end of this year. The night before, I’d been at the point of becoming bitter about all the wonderful people I’ve met here and about the life-changing, mind-shaping opportunities I’ve had. The morning after, however, I woke up and realized that the intensity of my anger and sadness was a measure of my deep love for South Africa. Moreover, I was convicted that I could do more to initiate, encourage, and foster conversation and dialogue between all people. Change can be brought about – but it must start with me.
How then do I suggest we fight against the silencing power of stereotypes? I draw the answer from my own life, for, curiously enough, my experiences have engendered in me a compassion for the marginalized and stereotyped instead of bitterness about those who see life in black, white and yellow.
I believe this attitude arises in part from my experience as an immigrant. I was brought up in a culture unfamiliar to my parents in a nation of which I am not (yet) a national, and as a racial minority in a multiracial country. This unique position has enriched my life immeasurably. In observing and participating within two different cultural mindsets, I have come to see a common humanity in all people. Furthermore, I came to realize that the views held by my parents and their South Korean friends quite often contrasted with those espoused by my South African friends and their families. To be aware that such varying opinions can be held by groups of people I regard highly has instilled in me the conviction that everyone’s perspective is of value.
Another reason for my attitude is because of a willingness to listen to other people’s stories. Stories are important because people understand the world and themselves through the narratives they tell. As someone who’s been trained in the humanities, and has an English Literature background, I have a natural interest in the ways that people perceive the world. As someone who is thought to be neutral, I have heard stories from my black friends about what white people do, from my white friends about what black people do, and from my coloured friends about what white and black people do. Sometimes the stories are humorous, as I am privy to the various misunderstandings on either side that have led to a specific situation; sometimes the stories are just heartbreaking. It has been my experience that people want to talk – they just don’t know how or when or with whom to begin.
I am not saying that everyone needs to be an immigrant in order to understand other peoples’ perspectives. I also do not wish to give the impression that I myself do not fail miserably at times – this is in no way an attempt to exonerate myself from my own tendencies to fall into blatant stereotyping and prejudices. This post is rather a call to action, a plea. I am advocating that we step into others’ experiences, and that we can only do if we talk to each other – if we open ourselves up to understanding two, three, four, five sides of a story. South Africa has a wealth of individuals, races, cultures, stories waiting to be heard and listened to, questions seeking answers, answers seeking questions. Athol Fugard once wrote: “One of the greatest blessings to fall in the lap of any storyteller is to be born in South Africa. You trip over stories when you step out of your front door, they walk past you as you stand on the street corner. Just keep your eyes, your ears and your soul open”. Let us keep our eyes, ears and souls open, and encourage these discussions. Let us share our lives, hurts, emotions, experiences, because stereotypes break down when individuals talk.
I have written this post as a start. I have written this post as a step to eventually breaking free from the silences that are draped over me, and others, when people enforce their stereotypes thoughtlessly, carelessly, hurtfully. Thank you for reading this, and taking time to consider my perspective. In doing so, you have temporarily joined in my battle. I ask you to play a bigger role, however, because change may start with me, but to carry on this change, to make a real difference, other people, you, must join my struggles.
I leave one last thought to you: if stereotypes break down when individuals talk, who are you speaking to?
My name is Grace Kim, and I am a stereotype. And I will remain a stereotype, until you open your ears and your heart to me.
Gracie, thanks for your honest and heartfelt blog about the painful reality of stereotyping. I am a liberal Afrikaner and have fought my whole life against the base stereotyping that has gushed forth, not only from my own people, but from everyone across the whole political spectrum in South Africa. The dynamics of stereotyping are not new, and as you mentioned, it is a sort of mental shortcut for people who are too lazy to explore the intricacies of life. Your response is an intensely personal one, and so are the responses from the very sensitive and passionate people commenting on your blog. The curious thing about stereotyping though is that it is not individualistic, but collective. Although we have a personal reaction to the person uttering such gibberish, he or she is only a product of a very organised and systematic network of ideas which we call his or her culture. The boy who uttered “Chinese”, exposed more of his own and his culture’s ignorance, than what he personally offended you. Which brings me to my main point: we are all part of cultures that discriminate and stereotype to some extent. I have lived in South Korea for almost 5 years on and off in various environments. The same way you feel stereotyped by being called “Chinese”, the same way I feel when I am collectively called “foreigner” or “American” in Korea. Or the way I am scoffed at if I do not bow to the correct people or do not give in to group pressure. “He is just a foreigner; what does he know?” Culture often does not respect difference and, difference creates stereotypes. As you, I also feel personally antagonised and want to shout out, “WTF, am I not human?”, but then I realise it takes a culture to change stereotypes. Through their own ignorance and belief in their own cultural superiority, South-Koreans are often not even aware that they are discriminatory or insensitive. Korean stereotypes have been shaped through ages of surviving as a peninsula between very aggressive, conquering neighbours; through years of Confucian government rule; through years of Japannese colonialism characterised by atrocities too terrible to mention; through 4 years of a war that left the country decimated; through years of military rule and lately also through years of capitalist excessiveness. So, I try not to feel too offended. I try to understand their history and I try to educate them about me. The fact is most cultures will always be exclusive. Unless you live in a constructed or open culture like the States or in SA, the stereotypes you will encounter will probably run very deep.
But there is hope. And the hope is us: me, you and all the sensitive and passionate individual souls that frequent this blog, living in multiple cultures, learning about life, sharing creativity and independent thinking, giving love and nurturing hope outside the confines of limited cultures and stereotypes. This we do and must do every day of our lives.
Stefan, much appreciate your voice in and contribution to this conversation.
In the original piece, I had a footnote about how a friend currently teaching in Korea sent me a message after I posted a note about this incident on Facebook. He very simply said how he hated that in Korea no-one wants to give him a job because he’s not ‘American’ enough. I see that I left out the story here – but thanks for adding the point that stereotyping happens in every culture and society.
And yes, there is hope. And that’s why we keep on talking and sharing
LOVED.this.
i get asked at least once a week, “so are you from around here?” or “your accent is interesting, where do you come from?” and although i know most people are genuinely asking out of interest, a small part of me thinks the reason they’re asking me this is because i don’t sound the colour of my skin. i don’t sound ‘coloured’ (or more accurately, so-called coloured – which is another story all of it’s own) so therefore i must not be from SA.
i just smile, explain that i was born here and have never lived abroad, and say i’m working on my south african accent
you’re so right – life in general has to necessarily involve opening not just our ears but our hearts to people too.
I sometimes answer the questions they’re not asking instead of the questions they are. Sometimes, they’re surprised because I understood what they couldn’t articulate – sometimes, I’m surprised because I misread their intentions.
Selene, shucks, that must’ve been an incredibly hard class.
I’ve had to come to realize as well that a lot of my own loved ones or the people I come into contact with are racists – and that I’d given up the fight to say anything a while back.
Look, I’m the type who won’t even complain at a restaurant – I’ll eat the wrong order, undercooked, whatever – I hate ‘making a fuss’. (I’m getting better at this, though).
But, (fortunately?) as a target for these comments, I’m much more in the firing line, and so I’ve decided to say something. Not because I wanted to, in the beginning, but because I have to. And in a way, this post is a public pledge to stop hiding behind my attitude of “it’s easier if I’m just quiet”.
As I was writing this, I was wondering if I should send it on to my friends. The ones who I’ve already shared some of the previous incidents with would understand, but even so I was afraid that people would just see it as me being over-sensitive, getting caught up in ‘race’. And why I decided to pass it on eventually is because of this: this post isn’t really about me. I’m just using my personal story to get your attention – to open your eyes wherever you are, whoever you’re with, and make a difference, because bias, hatred, prejudice is prevalent everywhere.
I am easy to stereotype as a white Afrikaans girl who probably has no clue what’s going on outside her little white Afrikaans world. People who think that are wrong and it’s their loss. And it is really wonderful when people can look beyond my white Afrikaansness and see a person with a heart, just like them.
I’m very fortunate to operate in a society where my “type” tends to be understood and catered for, but at least I’m aware of that. For my part, I find being able to speak even just words in different languages is a wonderful way of expressing interest in people. The fact that I can pronounce Xhosa words and names (I learned how to work the x, q, and c in first year) is much more valuable than I anticipated.
Oh my word, I just discovered the reply better! Hellllllllllll yeah
Maar ja, ek weet Cara-kind.. “People who think that are wrong and it’s their loss” – but let’s make them aware of their loss
Hey Grace.
I am struggling to get what to make of what you wrote. Its not that there is no truth in it, or that incidents of ignorance do not hurt, but I am not sure what to do now. The fact that you are my friend already blew my stereotype bubble. I can already see the changes from my grandparents to my parents to me, and I am sure it will change in generations following me. My friendship with you also challenges the views my parents and grandparents have of their own stereotypes.
How you (and I and other people) want to change deeply entrenched stereotypes by a blog that is read by people who have similar mindsets is a bit beyond me. Maybe I missed the point, but I am not sure what you expect from people who read this.
Gysie.. I appreciate your friendship so much – do you remember how you said to me that when you came to first year at Stellenbosch University, you never ever thought you’d be friends with a Asian?
I’m glad that you see such a positive trajectory in your own family- but this isn’t the case for everyone. Read Selene’s comment below. Read stories, such as can be found in Jonathan Jansen’s experience in The Daily Maverick: http://www.thedailymaverick.co.za/article/2011-03-08-the-beautiful-mind-of-jonathan-jansen.
I’ve addressed some of your question in Selene’s reply above, but a few more thoughts:
Never assume that our friends do all have the same mindset. More importantly, we might all, as ‘good’ ‘wise’ ‘educated’ people, speak the speak… but do we walk the walk? Are we doing anything about the way that other people are thinking and living? Are we actively challenging mindsets around us? Are we provoking conversation, not only with our friends, but with others? And I don’t mean antagonistically – I mean, gently, thoughtfully, compassionately – because those who express prejudiced, biased opinions are individuals, human beings too.
If you read Selene’s response, she admits that she’d given up fighting against prejudiced attitudes – so had I, Gysie. But how are we ever going to change anything in this country, and world, if we decide to keep quiet?
Grace, your story made me feel sad, angry, confused. But this incident is also much too familiar.
I grew up in Namibia in a liberal home but very sheltered from prejudices. People were our friends because of who they were not because of a superficial group to which they might belong. I naively thought that everyone got along. Because people outside my home environment didn’t share my parents’ values, my parents also taught my sister and me to always take the side of the underdog, to fight against bullies and unfairness – regardless of the consequences. As a result, my sister and I became part of the underdog pack.
Although I was aware of prejudices, I never experienced racism until I came to South Africa. I was shocked by the horrendous way people talk to and about each other. Within the first month of living in Stellenbosch I was called a “stupid boer”. Others called me a “bleeding-heart white liberal”. (I now have a t-shirt satirising that label.)
My heart broke when a black gentleman asked me for directions to Belville to pick up his wife at the Business School. He was surprised that I was friendly and printed out a map for him. He said that everyone warned him about the white people in Stellenbosch. I couldn’t understand why anyone would be rude to him.
The first time Grace told me about the racist comments she’s had to endure, I was dumbfounded. My first thought was, “didn’t they notice that she’s one of the most intelligent people they’ll ever meet?”
In a first year English tutorial I taught, a white student yelled at the ‘coloured’ students that they had nothing before white people came to South Africa. The illogical cruelty stunned me.
To my horror, I also realised that a lot of my own family members were racists. Initially I did what my parents taught me. I explained, argued, fought back – anything to change their views. Nothing.
I became despondent and silent. Whenever someone made a racist comment, I cringed and hoped to god no-one heard them or saw me with them. I started walking away in silence. My excuse for not saying was that “it’s no use. They’re just spoiling for a fight. It’s just a waste of energy.”
Grace, your story has given me new energy. I might not be able to change someone’s perceptions but I can fight the single story by adding my voice in support of telling and listening to multiple stories.
Thanks for your reply… I’m a bit of a fluffhead, so I didn’t know how to reply. Have left a comment at the top of the comment list, addressed to you
Grace Kim! Stop making me cry before I get any work done in the morning
I’m going out to lunch with our friend NB and after that maybe we’ll both post something.
Scott – jabs about the cricket and about eating kangaroo, eh
It’d be interesting to hear about your and your wife’s experience though – although we’re the new rainbow South Africa, interracial couples are still viewed with surprise in certain contexts!
Hi Kate, thanks for your words, but if I’m honest, it’s far easier to appear wise and contemplative after an event. While I was in the moment, I felt like punching someone.
But I realized ages ago that violence and anger is not only destructive towards others – but also self-destructive. So now, I write
Hi Grace. Great post. Really insightful. The whole thing is a farce of course because as a ‘foreigner’ here myself, the worst I get is jabs about the cricket. But it’s because I’m white. That’s one advantage about being an Aussie, at least we are marginally better at recognising the different SE Asian countries than most Africans!
A truly beautiful story. You are too wise to allow a minority to define who you are and dictate what you can do. People do not see the whole of you.
Yvonne, thank you for your compassion, and you’re absolutely right – stereotyping does make life easier! But we must start realizing that it’s not an excuse – the danger isn’t just hurt feelings, but stereotyping has been used before in the past as a justification of more fatal consequences, e.g. the Rwandan genocide; the Holocaust…
Sharon, thank you so much for your response. That’s exactly what I was hoping for when I wrote this – people who’d be moved enough to join with me in saying: No. This is not the way things have to be.
Hi Grace, I’m deeply touched by your story and I join you in the struggle..
hi Grace sorry about your experience…. i cant imagine how it feels like but i can only sympathise. its difficult for people to relate to individuals lumping them all into one class makes it much easier.