I was playing football on the field at my school, lunch time was in full swing and I was defending particularly poorly. “Go back to your own country” Rhys Warner-Carter, my goalie said under his breath, in (what I now believe to be) an attempt to shame me into playing better. This shockingly mundane account of racism happened a decade ago, and yet I still remember it. A this isn’t an isolated incident, oh no! I have volumes of low-octane, inaction-packed, low-speed situations that made me ask am I supposed to be offended? I don’t feel like I’m a different nationality. I don’t feel like I don’t belong. Half the time I’m not even aware that people are being racist. What I do feel is a vague sense of otherness about myself, I’ll never be “English” enough to not think is that person being racist? And at the same time, I have no interest in finding out more about my other heritage to identify with it at all. This really begs the question… **Where are you really from?** Here are some of the many variations of the question that I get asked on an almost daily basis: - “Where’s that touch of exotic from?” - “But you’re not fully English are you?” - “Right, but where is your family from?” Some skip the pleasantries and just go for “What are you?” This question doesn’t annoy me because of “micro-aggressions” (which I recently learned I was supposed to be slightly offended by), it annoys me because I have no idea how the answer relates to who I am! At first I hated being asked the question because I had no idea (my answer would be “Asian or something”), so I put in the effort and found out a bit about my heritage. Here it is for the people who are interested: My grandmother’s family is descended from Chinese indentured servants that were brought over to then-British Guinea to build a canal (or whatever). My grandfather is Malaysian but also Chinese. The follow-up question is usually then “So you're……?” Expecting me to fill in the blank. No one cares about my Mum’s parents, I assume because they’re white. I hate the question more for how unimaginative it is, but also because I feel no attachment to that ancestry. **“But you don’t even look that Chinese!”** The sub-heading is an actual quote from multiple people and, despite its accuracy, is such an odd thing to say to someone. It’s like someone telling you that they’re a scientist and saying “But you’re not even wearing a white jacket!” What is the modern day conception of what a Chinese person looks like? The first Google result for “Chinese person” [link] Perhaps it’s because I don’t, in fact, “look that Chinese” that I’m not interested in my heritage. In Greece, Turkey, Vietnam, South Korea, Indonesia, and Thailand, the natives all assumed that I was a long-lost English cousin. In the past people have assumed I’m Italian, French, Australia, Canadian, and (most surprisingly) Russian. To further confuse matters, once people get to know me they tell me “You don’t act that British”. This is also true; I don’t like black tea, I don’t care about Football, and my teeth look fairly nice. And yet, I am incredibly British; my favourite drink is a Gin and Tonic, I almost exclusively handshake, and I find public displays of affection a tad gauche. **Racism discussions** When the discussion of racism comes up, I feel like a complete fraud. As an Englishman, I’ve bathed in the wealth built on the backs on slavery. As a Chinaman (I had to Google if this was racist or not, it is), I feel a sense of satisfaction that I don’t have to listen to people tell me about white privilege. You know it I can be a smug liberal prick that has only gone through hardship by choice, whilst also being a man descended from victims of one of the worst crimes against humanity. Not English enough to be “really from” England, and too ignorant about China to want to spend time there. I still reap the rewards of having some sort of connection with both. I am a fraud. I am a man without a land. I am a man without a people. English by culture, Chinese(ish) by heritage, fuck knows by appearance. Rhys Warner-Carter, if you’re reading this I finally have a response to your attempt to offend me with your obviously learned phrase from a parental figure; “go back to your own country”. Mate, I would if I knew how. 02/25/[[2016]]