I ran across this blog post some time ago and with the board receiving posts on racism recently, I thought it might shed some light on what it is like to be 'stranger in your own land.' A little more racism.

http://benross.net/wordpress/guest-blogger-john-steinbeck/2007/12/17/

What are your thoughts..............

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Whats your name? Samuel asked pleasantly.

Lee. Got more name. Lee papa family name. Call Lee.

Ive read quite a lot about China. You born in China?

No. Born here.

Samuel was silent for quite a long time while the buggy lurched down the wheel track toward the dusty valley. Lee, he said at last, I mean no disrespect, but Ive never been able to figure why you people still talk pidgin when an illiterate baboon from the black bogs of Ireland, with a head full of Gaelic and a tongue like a potato, learns to talk a poor grade of English in ten years.

Lee grinned. Me talkee Chinese talk, he said.

Well, I guess you have your reasons. And its not my affair. I hoe youll forgive me if I dont believe it, Lee.

Lee looked at him and the brown eyes under their rounded upper lids seemed to open and deepen until they werent foreign any more, but mans eyes, warm with understanding. Lee chuckled. Its more than a convenience, he said. Its even more than self-protection. Mostly we have to use it to be understood at all.

Samuel showed no sign of having observed any change. I can understand the first two, he said thoughtfully, but the third escapes me.

Lee said, I know its hard to believe, but it has happened so often to me and to my friends that we take it for granted. If I should go up to a lady or a gentleman, for instance, and speak as I am doing now, I wouldnt be understood.

Why not?

Pidgin they expect, and pidgin theyll listen to. But English from me they dont listen to, and so they dont understand it.

Can that be possible? How do I understand you?

Thats why Im talking to you. You are one of the rare people who can separate your observation from your preconception. You see what is, where most people see what they expect.

I hadnt thought of it. And Ive not been so tested as you, but what you say has a candle of truth. You know, Im very glad to talk to you. Ive wanted to ask so many questions.

Happy to oblige.

So many questions. For instance, you wear the queue. Ive read that it is a badge of slavery imposed by conquest by the Manchus on the Southern Chinese.

That is true.

Then why in the name of God do you wear it here, where the Manchus cant get at you?

Talkee Chinese talk. Queue Chinese fashionyou savvy?

Samuel laughed loudly. That does have the green touch of convenience, he said. I wish I had a hidey-hole like that.

Im wondering whether I can explain, said Lee. Where there is no likeness of experience its very difficult. I understand you were not born in America.

No, in Ireland.

And in a few years you can almost disappear; while I, who was born in Grass Valley, went to school and several years to the University of California, have no chance of mixing.

If you cut your queue, dressed and talked like other people?

No. I tried it. To the so-called whites I was still a Chinese, but an untrustworthy one; and at the same time my Chinese friends steered clear of me. I had to give it up.

Le pulled up under a tree, got out and unfastened the check rein. Time for lunch, he said. I made a package. Would you like some?

Sure I would. Let me get down in the shade there. I forget to eat sometimes and thats strange because Im always hungry. Im interested in what you say. It has a sweet sound of authority. Now it peeks into my mind that you should go back to China.

Lee smiled satirically at him. In a few minutes I dont think youll find a loose bar Ive missed in a lifetime of search. I did go back to China. My father was a fairly successful man. It didnt work. They said I looked like a foreign devil; they said I spoke like a foreign devil. I made mistakes in manners, and I didnt know delicacies that had grown up since my father left. They wouldnt have me. You can believe it or notIm less foreign here than I was in China.

Ill have to believe you because its reasonable. Youve given me things to think about until at least February twenty-seventh. Do you mind my questions?

As a matter of fact, no. The trouble with pidgin is that you get to thinking in pidgin. I write a great deal to keep my English up. Hearing and reading arent the same as speaking and writing.

Dont you ever make a mistake? I mean, break into English?

No, I dont. I think its a matter of what is expected. You look at a mans eyes, you see that he expects pidgin and a shuffle, so you speak pidgin and a shuffle.

I guess thats right, said Samuel. In my own way I tell jokes because people come all the way to my place to laugh. I try to be funny for them even when the sadness is on me.

But the Irish are said to be a happy people, full of jokes.

Theres your pidgin and your queue. Theyre not. Theyre a dark people with a gift for suffering way past their deserving. Its said that without whisky to soak and soften the world, theyd kill themselves. But they tell jokes because its expected of them.

Lee unwrapped a little bottle. Would you like some of this? Chinee drink ng-ka-py.

What is it?

Chinee blandy. Stlong dlinkas a matter of fact its a brandy with a dosage of wormwood. Very powerful. It softens the world.

Samuel sipped from the bottle. Tastes a little like rotten apples, he said.

Yes, but nice rotten apples. Taste it back along your tongue toward the roots.

Samuel took a big swallow and tilted his head back. I see what you mean. That is good.

Here are some sandwiches, pickles, cheese, a can of buttermilk.

You do well.

Yes, I see to it.

Samuel bit into a sandwich. I was shuffling over half a hundred questions. What you said brings the brightest one up. You dont mind?

Not at all. The only thing I do want to ask of you is not to talk this way when other people are listening. It would only confuse them and they wouldnt believe it anyway.

Ill try, said Samuel. If I slip, just remember that Im a comical genius. Its hard to split a man down the middle and always to reach for the same half.