Oriental

I'm wondering exactly when it became déclassé to call Asian-Americans "Orientals." I may be totally out of touch, but it seems that this linguistic shift happened some time in the early nineteen-eighties-but perhaps that's only when I became aware of it. I may be dating myself, but when I was growing up in the honkey-and-Mexican-American-populated berg of Santa Barbara, CA, "Oriental" was what white people called anyone who was of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean descent.  Didn't matter if you were fresh off the boat or your family had been here for a hundred years.  You were singled out, set apart from the mainstream. Mind you, I was the only such person in my entire elementary school. When I went to junior high, perhaps there were four of us, one of whom was also hapa.  In high school, there may have been seven of us.  We were a rare breed, we "Orientals," yet we did not stick together.  Instead, we assimilated into groups of white friends.  We had no ethnic identity.

Halmonie still (proudly) refers herself an Oriental, even though I've told her countless times that, especially in the Bay Area, the word is embarrassingly politically incorrect.  It reflects an imperialist, Eurocentric worldview rather than an inclusive, globalist perspective that respects all people of the world, regardless of their orientation to Western Europe. She claims that "Oriental" differentiates her from other "Asians," such as Thais, Indians, Vietnamese, Malaysians, etc- in other words, from people who are not Chinese/Japanese/Korean, the "classic" Orientals.  I have stopped trying to convert her, as she sees nothing wrong with the old term.  That's fine, as long as she doesn't say the "O" word around any of my commie/leftist friends!

When I was in high school, some of my friends would jokingly refer to me as their "Oriental" friend, which I did not mind at the time. Instead, I laughed it off and retorted by calling them "WOPS," Micks," and other disparaging terms that I don't dare print in this blog.  It felt naughty, but hell, I was all about being iconoclastic and contrary, so using these disparaging terms seemed like nothing but innocent, irreverent fun.  One early boyfriend even went as far as to call me a Gook.  "My cute little Gook," he'd coo adoringly. I thought it was sweet.

Now, if asked, I call myself an Asian-American, not an Oriental, not a Gook; however, because I'm half, I feel vaguely fraudulent when I use that characterization on official forms or when filling out the census. I check the "Asian-American" box, but feel somewhat guilty for dissing my honkey side.  I am, after all, 50/50. Why does my Korean half, rather than my Caucasian half, deserve to be "counted" in the census?  Easy.  Because it's the side of me that is the underdog.  It's my historically oppressed side. My Korean side is out of the mainstream, ethnic, powerful, and different. White is the default, which I don't want to be.

Twizzle

Edited to add: Here's some additional commentary on the subject.