OPINION
Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER
August 4, 2014
Volume 24 Number 15
August 4, 2014
ISSN: 1094-9453
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MY TURN
n Wayne Chan
The know it all who
really doesn’t know
e went out with some friends for dinner
the other night and I was a nervous
wreck.
I should be used to it by now. It’s a condition I’ve
had to deal with my entire life, but for whatever
reason, I just can’t get over it.
The malady I am suffering from is Only
Asian-itis. It’s a disorder that occurs whenever I’m
in a social situation with a group of non-Asians and
I’m expected to be the all-knowing expert on
everything Asian. The symptoms are even more
severe when we’re at a Chinese restaurant.
I’ve dealt with Only Asian-itis my entire life. I
suppose it’s a condition I should have adapted to
long ago.
Growing up, whatever school I was in, I always
felt a bit like the odd man out. I was nearly always
the only Asian in school. Oh sure, in elementary
school, I wasn’t completely alone. There was Stacy
Hayashi, but having one other Asian in school didn’t
really make things better. With Stacy being a girl,
everyone in school assumed that, even at six years
old, we were two peas in a pod and were destined to
be together forever living in wedded bliss.
So back to the story. There we were, in one of the
best Chinese restaurants in town, having dinner
with four of our nicest neighbors, all of whom are
Caucasian. Both couples had recently taken Maya
and me out to dinner, and we thought it would be
nice to return the favor. They had taken us out for
Italian and American cuisine, and they suggested
that we choose a good Chinese restaurant. Sounds
easy enough, right?
But Only Asian-itis sufferers are acutely aware
that I’ve just stumbled into the worst-case scenario
of the condition. I’m starting to break out in hives
just thinking about it.
It starts out pretty harmless. I ask, “Is there
anything you guys don’t eat?”
One of them says they’ve never really liked tofu,
because it has no flavor. Another says they’re not
used to eating a whole fish, while another says they
W
were a little freaked out when they ordered shrimp
and the head was still on it.
Easy enough — nix the tofu and we’ll stick with
headless fish fillets and decapitated shrimp.
Obviously some people don’t like eating food that’s
looking at them when they’re eating. So, maybe
they’re in a bit of denial, but who am I to judge?
It’s really after the food starts to arrive that it gets
tough.
I’m inundated with questions they all assume I
have answers to and for some reason, I’m hesitant to
let on that I don’t have a clue. They begin peppering
me with questions like:
Wayne, why is northern Chinese food so much
spicier than food from southern China?
Wayne, what is the dumpling skin made out of?
Wayne, how is the food here compared to China?
Wayne, why is soup being served as the last dish of
the meal?
Wayne, who is General Tso and why is his chicken
so famous?
Wayne, how did Chinese people start eating with
chopsticks?
I think my exact responses were:
Umm … Maybe Maya knows … half a dozen of one
or six of another … it has something to do with an
emperor … I think Confucius once said … Uhh, I
could tell you, but my Feng Shui master advised
against answering.
One of our friend’s ancestors is Italian, but if we
go out to an Italian restaurant, I don’t ask why
gnocchi is spelled with a “g” or who first thought of
putting cream in a cannoli.
At some point, as I’m drowning in questions, I just
blurt out, “Look! I was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan!
Just outside of Detroit! How am I supposed to
know?”
I have to give myself a little credit, though. I
actually do know the answers to most of those
questions. But Googling the answers hardly
makes me the “go-to guy” when it comes to Chinese
culture.
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