I'll start calling them that when they stop calling all Asians Chinese.

QUOTE(AgentBach @ May 17 2006, 05:33 PM)

I'll start calling them that when they stop calling all Asians Chinese.

I'll start calling them that when they stop calling all Asians Chinese.

We pulled into the Coatltenango terminal (a small marketplace, actually), where I was due to change buses. As soon as I began wandering around looking for the bus to Ilusión, the whispers started, Hey, it's a Chino, a Chino. Everyone was hounding me to buy stuff. I looked straight back at them and insisted, “No, soy Japonés”—No, I'm Japanese. Chino meant “Chinese,” and at the airport and the border and customs, that's what everyone had been calling me. I guessed to them there was no difference between Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or Vietnamese. After hearing it so many times, I got so angry I felt like saying, Japaneseón! Don't you know Japaneseón?

At that point an old pale-skinned man stepped out of the crowd. He looked poor, and extremely kindly. “Jou are Japanese?” he asked in English. I nodded, and he added: “So, jou are perhaps Maki's friend?” I didn't have a clue who this Maki was, but thought I might seem less suspicious if I had a name behind me. I replied, “Maki who lives in Ilusión?” He gave a knowing grin. “Ah, yes, Maki's friend,” he said, and happily directed me over to the bus for Ilusión.

They lined us up next to the bus and two soldiers started checking IDs, from either end of the line. I was near the left end so my turn came around quickly. The soldier, who looked like he was in his thirties, flipped through my passport and said, “¿Chino, verdad?”—Chinese, right?

Just look, it says right there, I thought to myself, but I gave a polite smile and answered, “No, Japonés.”

The soldier peered into my face, then at my passport again. His military cut, protruding cheekbones and dark complexion made him look like a samurai warrior from another time.

“Entonces, es Chino”—Well then, you are a Chino.

Come on, I thought, and told him again, “No soy Chino, soy Japonés,” enunciating each word. The soldier handed back my passport, and muttered once more, “Chi-no.”

Shaking with anger, I clenched my fist and spoke in Japanese. “You "(censored)" dog$hit soldier.” You want me to call you Chino to your ugly samurai face?

The elder gent must have seen how angry I was, because he whispered to me, “Don't get angry, boy. Chino just means Asian.”

“Huh?” I asked, looking at his face. He nodded.

So all Asians were Chinos. So that's what it was. Chino just meant “Oriental.” Why Chino? Because China's so big? Because it has the largest population? No, probably because most immigrants came from China. Latin America was made up of all different races, and Asian immigrants probably usually meant Chinese.

I calmed down a bit. Though why should being thought of as an Oriental make me calm down? I got angry being mistaken for Chinese and wanted them to call me Japanese, yet I hated being seen as just another wad of yen. If I didn't have a problem with being called Oriental, wasn't that a contradiction?

Dear Mexican:

As an Asian person, would I be considered a gabacho? Or do I fall into the yellow bucket labeled chinito, even though I'm not Chinese?

OC Asian

Dear Chino:

Just as Americans assume all Latinos are Mexican, Mexicans think all Asians are chinos — Chinese. When I used to go out with a Vietnamese woman, my aunts would speak highly of mi chinita bonita — my cute little Chinese ruca. When I'd point out that she was actually Vietnamese, mis tías would think about it for a bit and respond, "Que chinita bonita."

But just because a Mexican calls you a chino doesn't necessarily mean we think you're Chinese. Chino, like so many of our swear words, has multiple negative meanings. In the colonial days, a chino was the offspring of a half-Indian, half-black and an Indian. This association with race also transformed chino into a synonym for "servant" and "curly." The term barrio chino (Chinatown) also became a euphemism for a town's red-light district. And a popular schoolyard refrain that all Mexican kiddies eventually chant at their Asian classmates is Chino, chino, japones: come caca y no me des ("Chinese, Chinese, Japanese: eat $hit and don't give me any").

So why the Mexican chino-hate? After all, Chinese were the Mexicans of the world before there even was a Mexico, migrating to Latin America a couple of decades after the fall of Tenochtitlán. And our most famous native dress, the billowy, colorful costume worn by baile folklórico dancers known as a china poblana, was supposedly first worn by a 17th-century Mexican-Chinese woman. Bigotry is bigotry, though, and because Mexico's Asian population is still small and overwhelmingly Chinese, we lump Asians into the chino category — makes the racism easier, you know? Got a spicy question about Mexicans? Ask the Mexican at mexican@pitch.com. And those of you who do submit questions: Include a hilarious pseudonym, por favor, or we'll make one up for you!

And a popular schoolyard refrain that all Mexican kiddies eventually chant at their Asian classmates is Chino, chino, japones: come caca y no me des ("Chinese, Chinese, Japanese: eat $hit and don't give me any").

I'll start calling them that when they stop calling all Asians Chinese.