Thursday, February 27, 1997
PREJUDICE:
Television, visual media determine cultural value systems
Out of the blue, I decide to go down to Orange County to visit my friend G-Dog. We haven't seen each other in some time and I thought we should catch up on all the current happenings in our lives. I ditch some trivial lectures and make the hour-long trek to my home town, cruising along in my 1984 stale red Nissan Sentra. The engine whines as I near the 65 mph mark somewhere in the middle of the 405. I try not to push the car past 70 as my father once warned me that the engine might explode if I did. The music is barely audible as I adjust the dial on the radio. I don't think digital car radios were available in 1984.
I arrive at UCI and G-Dog offers to give me a tour of his school. We decide to first get some food at the local In-N-Out. While munching on my delectable double-double, I notice a group of Asian youths arrive. Attired in baggy clothing and equipped with all sorts of paging devices, these youngsters don't appear as threatening as the news reports make them out to be. I invite them over to my table for conversation and we all have a grand old time over burgers and soda.
After lunch, G-Dog and I head to campus. On the way, a souped- up Acura pulls up beside us. However, we're shocked to discover two teenage Caucasian girls in the front seats. I suppose not all Asians drive Hondas and Acuras. The ladies challenge us to an old-fashioned street race, but my Betsy can only keep up for a few seconds. The girls in the Acura leave us in a flash.
G-Dog shows me the various lecture halls around his campus. I don't particularly like pastel-colored buildings, though. Royce Hall still kicks ass when compared to the avant-garde designs of UCI's facilities. I see a lot of interracial couples walking around white guys and Asian girls. G-Dog tells me it's a trend and that some Asian guys don't think too highly of the white "Asianphile menace." I comment that the couples look happy, and either way, it's none of my business. Besides, I'm an Asianphile, too. I really dig my Asian sisters. I ask G-Dog about the purported Chinese Conspiracy at UCI. I look around and notice a lot of Asian people, even some Chinese individuals speaking their native Mandarin in a sing-song rhythm. However, I don't find any evidence for a concerted, hostile Chinese takeover of UCI, or any of the other UCs.
It's dark by the time we start the trip back to G-Dog's apartment. We're driving steadily along Jamboree in the heart of Irvine until a cop pulls us over. I remember that I'm driving an old sedan and not some expensive sports car, so I wonder why my presence in Irvine at night would arouse suspicion. The peace officer tells me that the backwards baseball cap on my head in addition to my Asian features matched the profile of some gangsters he was looking for. He tells me I should wear my cap the right way. I tell him to "fuck off," but that's as far as our conversation goes.
Back at the Dog house, I make myself comfortable as G scours the television airwaves for something interesting to watch. He asks how the last UCLA basketball game went. I can't give him an answer because the local cable company doesn't provide Fox Sports West 2. We want to go hang out somewhere around town, but I don't want to get pulled over again.
Instead, we watch "Grave of the Fireflies," a Japanese animated tragedy about two children caught in the turmoil of WWII. The film packed an incredibly powerful emotional kick. I enjoyed it a lot, but G-Dog was still waiting for the giant robots and naked green-haired girls. I tried to explain that Japanese Anime is a legitimate form of story-telling, but it's late and an exhausted body forces me to sleep.
G has an early class the next morning. I wake up around 1:00 p.m. and flip on the television. The syndicated channel is showing a repeat of "The Karate Kid." I wince as Mr. Miyagi goes on-screen, his affected accent and cultural awkwardness confining him forever to the status of a glorified nip. I watch the movie, though, for the scene at the end where Ralph Macchio punks the Aryan bully with the Flamingo Kick. Unbelievably, it still gets my adrenaline going.
G-Dog and I grab a quick lunch after he gets back. I've already missed two days of class and I want to return to Westwood with enough time to do my Chinese homework. Back on the 405, I get rear-ended by a middle-aged European man. I expected to see an old person, a young teen, or an Asian of any age climb out of the car. But surprisingly, middle-aged European men make lousy drivers, too.
I make it back to my apartment by 9 p.m. I don't start my homework until midnight. The final section of the Chinese assignment asks me to write a few sentences describing the people in my country. The question deserves more than just a flimsy response, so I take a short 30 minute break and go channel hopping on my television set to clear my mind.
"Cops" is on and I see the police arrest another black man. I think he was working as a pimp daddy, but I don't stay with the show long enough to confirm. I pick up the day's edition of the Los Angeles Times and see a picture of a Hispanic family above a caption describing the problem of illegal immigration in California.
I remember an English composition course in which we studied how literature had a narrative power to mold individuals' conceptions of culture, ethnicity and gender. In our non-literary era, the television and other forms of eye-catching media have replaced the novel as the purveyor of cultural truths regarding race and sex.
I see black people portrayed in the media as crack-heads, criminals and athletes. I see Hispanics categorized as illegal aliens in our country. I see Asians...well, I don't see many Asians in the media.
Cuba Gooding, Jr. recently earned an Oscar nomination for his performance in Jerry Maguire. But Christ, he had to play a wide receiver to do it. So I'm surprised when I have a black calculus TA who is also a Harvard alumni. I doubt she needed affirmative action to get into UCLA. And I'm just as amazed when I read a Latino classmate's analytic paper and realize how much superior it is to mine. The simple fact that I'm taken aback by these revelations indicates that I'm just as misguided as the flamboyant, hooded racists I hate.
I wanted to say something positive and upbeat in my Chinese homework, but all I could think of to write down is that in this country, we tend to be prejudiced, intolerant and ignorant.