Opine: The Asian Issue and Yellow Fever

Im-single-tshirt

I’m Single! How cheesy…

I’m not the sort of person who would knock it unless I tried it. Granted, there are things I could not be paid to do. Eating cockroaches would be one. Eating something still living is another.

I say this because I’ve always shunned dating sites. It felt too much like a beauty contest and that’s something I’m not too keen on. But considering that most men who I know personally and tell me they are remotely interested in me are normally of the married variety, I’ve decided to give it a go.

A funny thing about this site I’m presently on is that men ask women to start the ball rolling and chat them up. I was always under the impression that it should be the other way around.

Talk about breaking down the gender barriers.

And then, a hitch of sorts.

I put on my profile that I am looking for 30 to 45 year olds. I regularly get 55 year olds chatting me up, for some reason but as I see no harm in speaking with another person, I chat with a certain 50-something. Everything is normal until he says, “Gotta go and work out just in case I meet a beautiful Asian bullfighter.”

Me, in other words.

I sat thinking and wondered had I had blonde hair and blue eyes, would he have said, “Gotta go and work out just in case I meet a beautiful white bullfighter.”

And soon afterwards, another man (also a 50-something) was checking out my profile with the headline on his profile reading “Looking for a muscular Asian woman.”

Really? Isn’t that just a tad off?

What is this business with yellow fever?

In personal aspects of my life, I don’t believe my ethnicity was ever an issue and should ever be one. Politics of the skin should not exist. Especially in a relationship. The moment it was mentioned, however, it became an issue. I’ve heard a lot of crap in my life and much of that here in Mexico. But I’ve also never felt so free of those labels as I have here.

Because I can give a flying fuck and people except that now of me. I’m not your garden variety potted plant and being foreign in Mexico affords me the lenience of being who I want to be without the restraints of the local society because “I may not know” what the correct thing to do is. I milk the foreign ignorance card for everything its worth.

I’m not an upstart. I’m not trying to start a row. I’m just me and I’m at an age where I am hella tired of categories. I don’t have one and don’t need one. If we don’t get along, we don’t get along and there is no shame in that. Do you really need to categorize me to understand who I am?

We all exist and there is nothing we can do about. And that is what makes it all the more beautiful.

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