OPINION
Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER
June 15, 2015
Volume 25 Number 12
June 15, 2015
ISSN: 1094-9453
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MY TURN
n Dmae Roberts
Seriously, trust me
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n a lot of television dramas lately, I’ve heard
the words “seriously, trust me” repeated by
actors a couple times in each episode. It’s as if
Hollywood writers are showing their insecurity or
paranoia about how little trust they engender.
Sometimes I hear myself saying “seriously?” — a
word meant as a statement guised as a question.
“Seriously?” has replaced “really?” or “are you
kidding me?” It can also take the place of the
more-’90s-affirmation, “totally!”
I can live with “seriously,” but when I hear actors
using the phrase “trust me,” it takes me to a place
full of doubt, resentment, and distrust. It doesn’t
help that many of the characters who use it are
involved in conspiracy plots, criminal activity, or
intercultural political strife. The use of “trust me”
crosses all television genres — from contemporary
to science fiction and fantasy.
Perhaps it’s because I grew up with so much
mistrust — the Watergate break-in; Nixon’s
criminal activity; the Vietnam War and the Fall of
Saigon; the Reagan years with the threat of nuclear
annihilation in the ’80s; Clinton, oh yes, Clinton,
who never inhaled and didn’t know that woman in
the ’90s. Of course, there are also the post-
millennial events of 9/11 as well as the continual
Persian Gulf wars and involvement in Afghanistan.
Public trust has never been lower. All the “isms”
that I thought might be eliminated in my lifetime
are still going strong — racism, sexism, and ageism
— along with homophobia, bullying, demonizing
the poor and lower classes, etc. The list doesn’t end.
So when a television character, usually a white
male, tells someone, “trust me,” my inside voice
immediately responds with “Hell no!” Seriously.
It isn’t just the world that has provoked a lack of
trust in me. As a 1.5 generation immigrant, I had a
less-than-secure upbringing — moving every year
to another new “home” while my parents battled
each other about their lack of money so loud that the
neighbors could hear the shouting.
It took me many years to learn that most of what
people say doesn’t represent their true thoughts
and that actions speak louder than words. But even
today, my nature is to be a little gullible and I accept
people at face value, though this often leads to
disappointment.
I learned rather early that who I am and what I’ve
lived appears foreign or odd to many in the
I
mainstream, which made it nearly impossible to
talk about myself or what I really thought. I’ve
never been good with chit-chat and often felt
undercover. For that very reason, I started calling
myself “Secret Asian Woman.”
As a biracial, but not visibly Asian American,
revealing myself meant “blowing my cover,” which
inevitably escalated to a series of interrogative
questions about my past and my identity — another
experience adding to my distrust.
Yet I still have a need to communicate my
thoughts, feelings, and experiences in a way that
feels safe. That’s why I began writing from a
personal perspective. If I created personal radio
pieces, autobiographical stage plays, or memoir
essays, I didn’t have to worry about people’s instant
responses to me as a person. If they did react, it was
to my work and what I’d created.
When I meet people who want to comment on my
work, it surprises them that I really don’t want to
talk about my personal life. It seems to be a
stumbling block to many. In talkback sessions
about my plays, films, or radio pieces, or e-mails
regarding my essays, people ask very personal
questions.
Sometimes I will answer, to a degree. There is an
invisible line that allows one to talk about personal
experiences as an artistic creation. But when
someone crosses that line out of curiosity to delve
further into my psyche, that’s when I abruptly stop.
I believe there’s a secret regarding most actors who
perform their own stories or writers who write a
memoir — They don’t like to talk about their
personal lives; that’s why they chose to express it as
a work of art.
It all comes down to trust. People aren’t just
responding to the artistry of your work; they are
commenting on your life and experiences. Some
betray that trust, even unintentionally, when they
want to know more than you’re willing to share. So
when I hear an actor portraying a character that
speaks those words — “trust me” — I immediately
feel it’s an effort to manipulate rather than share
true honesty.
Perhaps we should replace “trust me” as a
command, to something like, “I want to be someone
you can trust.” Or change it to a simple request:
“Please believe me.” Now that is a scene I’d like to
see on television or on the stage. Seriously.
Opinions expressed in this newspaper are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.
Wondering what events are going on this week?
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