Colors. We love the diversity in our clothes, cars, computers, pictures, pets, flowers, houses, deco.... In fact, everything in our lives is enhanced by the increased diversity of colors. So, why is it so difficult to accept racial diversity?
1987
I taught Jen at the YMCA in Kaohsiung for a couple of weeks, after which we had built a good personal relation. So, when he asked me to dinner after class, I had no reservations. We stood outside waiting for the other classmates who were joining us. We both groped for a topic during the hiatus. We started taking at the same time, like a pair of dancers starting off on the wrong foot.
“You go ahead,” I said.
He asked, “I was just wondering, do you have any trouble here in Taiwan, you know, being a nigger.”
Whoah! I was smacked in the face. Immediately, I appreciated that he was naive. “Well, Jen a couple of things. First I appreciate you're being sensitive to the race issue in Taiwan. Second, I think you mean, 'negro' not nigger. In some parts of the world you can get killed for using the “N” word. “
Blushing nervously, “Oh, I'm sorry,” he interjected.
“Never mind because, which brings me to the third point, I am not a negro.” I said.
“But you're black,“ he countered.
“No, I'm brown. I'm Hispanic and Indian, from India. Technically were Caucasian,” I corrected.
“Can I say 'black'? I mean will I get killed?” he asked, still nervous.
“This generation, black is good. It keeps changing. Alas,.. .,“ I try to put him at ease. ”What's in a name. A philodendron by any other name would be just as hard to grow.” I remarked.
“I don't understand,” he said.
“No worries. Teacher told a bad joke. Everybody please laugh!” I said.
They did and we shook loose a generation of racial tension.
Black man Cafe
2000 Taitung
Being a mediocre guitarist, I was elated to hear that there was a foreign musician who just moved to town. He's from Dominican Republic, I was told. He was a “ Hei- Ren” , black man.
I went to the hotel cafe where he worked, and introduced myself. He was all smiles and pleasant. He looked a bit like Michael Jackson especially from a Taiwanese point of view.
He played keyboard, drums, a little guitar. I gave him my number and invited him to jam sometime with Roger and me.
“Well, I don't get out much. I have to mind the kids, “ he said.
“Oh, you have kids, already?” I asked.
“They are my wife's kids from her previous marriage. I have to pick them up from school and drop them off at their buxibans,” apologetically.
“So, now you're a husband, a father, and a business owner all in one swipe. That must be a lot of stress,” I sympathized.
“You have no idea,” he said.
“ How do you feel about the name of the cafe? ' Black Man Cafe'?” I probed.
“It's her cafe, her money. If it works, it works.“ he resigned himself.
“ Well, it worked for the toothpaste,” I offered. We laughed.
“You're not offended by the tokenism?” I asked.
“She has my passport. She gives me 100 NT a day. If I do not play, she cuts me off. I cannot leave. I cannot protest.“ he said.
I told several friends about Patrick's cafe, his music and suggested that they go over and introduce themselves. So, they did, two foreign men, Tom and Peter, a very blond Austrian girl named Iris, and one local woman named Betty. They came back to me with a tale of terror.
“I can't believe she spoke like that.” Iris said.
“What the heck happened?” I asked.
“Well, we took a table, listened to a set of music, ordered cake and coffee. When the break came, we complimented Patrick and asked him to sit down. Then his wife, Jenny? Her name is Jenny? “ Iris said.
“What is it about Taiwan women named Jenny they are demonic.” Tom offered.
“Jenny came over and told us to leave her husband alone.” said Iris. “She chased us out of her cafe. She said that If I came back she would take a knife and cut off my nipples.”
“She told us that her family is all gangsters and that she could have me killed with just a phone call,” said Peter.
The next time I saw Patrick, I asked him about the event. He said that his wife is very possessive. They fight about it all the time. But he loves her very much.
“And does she love you or are you just a draw card for her business?” I asked.
“She loves me. I know she does.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I love to make music, but not like this. I feel like a trained seal. I would rather buy a tour bus and take tourists around the island. That is what I would prefer to do for a living.” he said.
“ Well, I hope your dream comes true,” I said.
I didn't see Patrick again until I got an email from him. He said that he had found where she had hidden his passport. Had scraped together enough money to escape. He said that he had been kept like a slave, how she had used her 'affection' as a lure, to entrap him. He was glad he was free. “Free at last, free at least. Thank God almighty I am free at last! “ was how he put it.
Most women I have met in Taiwan have the same response to black people, “They smell funny.” “They are too big.” “They talk funny but dance well.” But the black men I know tell a very different story - without going too much into detail - of long, hard, loud, vigorous one night stands. It seems back stage and front stage behavior vary.
In 2009, I still see that people of color, black or brown, are less likely to be selected for jobs.
My friend Gary, a black American in Taipei in 1987 was swamped with work as an English teacher. But, as more Caucasians arrived, he was displaced, not on the merits of his work, but just because white people are more marketable. Apparently, as one of my Taiwan friends put it, “Black man only sell toothpaste.”
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