My Chinese Experience – a guest contribution by Kimberley Wong

This article is a special contribution by guest writer Kimberley Wong. If you have a story you would like to tell, we at Her Campus St Andrews would love to hear it. Please email us at hc.standrews@hercampus.com to submit your piece for consideration!

It was Lunar New Year. For this first time in my life, I was celebrating by myself. I felt sad. Largely because I was missing out on getting red pockets filled with money, but also because the massive family gatherings that I was so used to wouldn’t be taking place. The round table would usually be crammed with food: a steamed fish, braised meats, preserved vegetables, and sweet dumplings. Everything had its own significant meaning – success, fortune, fertility, wholeness. 

This year, it looked like I would be making myself an instant noodles packet on a Zoom call with relatives.

So, thinking I might cheer myself up with some nostalgic Chinese snacks, I decided to head for the tiny Asian shelf in Tesco. But even with my earphones in and my face hidden behind a mask, I heard the all too familiar sound of mocking laughter coming from some schoolboys. 

“Konnichiwa,” they were shouting. “Ching-chong. Chicken curry.” I knew if I turned around, they would be pulling their eyes to make a slit.

Being born and raised in Glasgow, it did not shock me to hear these phrases. I did not bother correcting them by saying that I am British-Chinese and not Japanese, because why would St Andrews – the safest place in Scotland – care about the difference? I wasn’t white.

It didn’t look like anybody else in the supermarket thought it was unusual either. They were looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to fight back and break the social distancing rules. I didn’t. I just got my food and got out.

Then, like most St Andrews students, I received the In the Loop newsletter which recounted the worthwhile events of the week: a car had fallen in the Kinnessburn again, successful alumni were giving a speech, and oh, racist abuse.  

The event was described objectively. Three Asian female students were at a park and a dog approached them. They were distressed by the dog, but when the owner came to retrieve her pet, she started to yell that they ate bats. Please contact the University if there was any information you could provide.

My first response was relief. At least the girls were not physically attacked.

I have been forwarded plenty of concerning photographs during the pandemic; being able to read about it on paper was a comforting privilege. There have been relatives who were robbed, friends who were punched and spat at, and so on. Sadly, this has been anything but a rare occurrence.

When you live as a Chinese woman in the UK, you live in fear. You must be twice as smart to remain safe. You must choose your battles. You must learn to keep silent. But, when it happens to other people – friends, relatives, the elderly – I cannot shake it off.

It occurs to me that there are people who would love to see Lunar New Year destroyed, who would take pleasure in driving my family away, flipping over the banquet tables, and tearing up the lanterns we decorate. There were people who wanted me to vanish from St Andrews, from Scotland, from the whole world. I could speak in their accent, learn to love their culture, grow up alongside them, and still, I would be punished. And I could not run from them, even in this tiny coastal town.

All I can do is wait, knowing that no one will speak up.

Those girls will not tell anyone what happened. It was somebody else who reported the incident. And, I knew exactly why they didn’t. What are we supposed to do about it? Who are we meant to report to? How would there be any justice?

As I write, there have been increasing reports about racist abuse towards Asian people. They get worse and worse. I am wondering when people will stop to care, like I did.

I’ve always been told to treat others how you would want to be treated. Now, I realise I would have liked for someone to have defended me in Tesco. I would have liked to feel less alone during the Lunar New Year, less of an alien. I would have liked to feel cared for as an Asian woman in St Andrews. After all, the whole point of the Lunar New Year is to start again, to feel close to the people you care about. This is the best time to speak up about my own place in the University community. 

• asian racism
• chinese experience
• COVID-19
• racism