Sylvia Wynter's Dream

Written on my face 

Written by Dominic Ramsay

Was it written on my face as I passed through the high school hallway without a friend? Was it worth mocking me with unprovoked squinted eyes and a childish ‘KO-NI-CHI-WA’ as you bowed towards me to entertain your friends? Were you satisfied as you walked away and out of my life leaving me with residual racism as my only impression of you? Was it not clear enough in my face that I needed to be reminded of my Asian-ness as if I somehow forgot?  

Was it written on my face that I felt hurt when you called me a mongrel? Was I wrong to think of you as a friend instead of thinking about race all the time? Was my otherness so distinct from your pure black body and mind that you couldn’t overlook our differences and focus on the histories we share?  Was it worth drawing a line in the sand to separate you and I? 

Was it written on my face that I was shocked when you said after two years of dating that I have advantages. As if we didn’t go out together, and you didn’t realise that life had not dramatically changed for you. As If you didn’t notice I still got shitty customer service when I bought you coffee. As if you didn’t notice how my paycheques dried up before I could land my next job. Instead, you made up a narrative that my light-brown skin somehow afforded every privilege in my life and that I have never and will never understand struggle. Was it that even after getting so close, I’m still a stranger in your eyes? 

You assumed my story many times without me saying a word. Some parts are correct but mostly oversimplified as you take my image and throw it into the pile categorised as ‘other’.  So, I must ask, since my whole life story is so plain to see; Was it written on my face?