Emi, not Emiko

Are you there, God? It’s me, Emi. Emiko. I haven’t said that name out loud in awhile when I introduce myself. I obviously can’t lie to you, though; you know everything about me, least of all my full legal first name, Emiko. I don’t think I’m ashamed of who I am, but I’ve been having a hard time celebrating who I am lately. If that even makes sense. Whenever I meet new people, especially when it requires having my name written down, I say my name is just ‘Emi.” It’s shorter, easy to spell, and not blatantly in your face that I’m Japanese. I also like that I’m not labeled Japanese right away; if I turn in my paper or go to pick up a mobile order, they won’t automatically look at me when my drink is ready because I’m the token Asian girl standing there.

Anyway, I had a rough day last week, and I think I’m falling down a rabbit hole, which is why I’m talking to you tonight in desperation. I was standing in line at Starbucks downtown, waiting for my mobile order, when someone intentionally bumped into me and said rather loudly, “go back to where you came from.” It caught me off guard for a second. I didn’t even realize he was talking to me at first since we were downtown, and no one has ever said that to me before or publicly judged me. Well, that I know of anyway. He walked over to the mobile pickup area and grabbed his stupid Venti Frappuccino, and continued to mouth off loudly and shout “why can’t these Chinese just go back to where they came from.” I stood there in disbelief. He glared at me and walked out the exit, continuing to mutter under his breath. In retrospect, I don’t think many people even noticed his outburst. The other people standing there were either on their phones scrolling through their never-ending list of emails, talking on the phone, or lost in their thoughts. The only person who acknowledged his outburst was the Starbucks barista who called my name and apologized to me on behalf of the customer as he placed my drink on the counter. I immediately wished I had ordered something hot, despite it being daytime outside, just to feel something warm course through my body. His kind eyes and reassuring gaze made me feel like crying even more than the remarks the jerk had said minutes before. The sympathetic barista asked if I was okay walking to my car or if he should call security, but since I could see my car parked right outside the glass doors, I figured I was okay. I walked to my car and sat there and just sat there, completely dumbfounded. 

            Ever since the coronavirus pandemic, my thoughts on being “Asian” have changed and not at all in a positive way. I used to be proud of who I was growing up. My name always served as a good icebreaker when meeting people, a way to give an interesting anecdote about my name. “Emiko” means blessed child, and I was a miracle baby for my parents who tried for almost five years before I made my miraculous arrival into this world. So, I guess they would have you to thank for me. So, thank you for bringing me into this world. 

            God, please help me figure out how to be Japanese in today’s society. I’m 100% Japanese ethnically but 100% American, born and raised in the U.S.A. I messaged many people about what had happened and posted something on my Instagram account, which I subsequently deleted. I thought I would receive numerous comforting messages like “that guy was a jerk,” or even the generic “are you okay?” Instead, I received comments like “must be nice to be in your thirties and have this be the first time you experienced racism,” and “you’re not Chinese, so why are you upset?” I have since deleted that post from my account.

Am I being too sensitive? Am I privileged that this is my first real public shaming due to racism? Have I been too sheltered or privileged in my life? I wasn’t physically hurt, so I shouldn’t be this upset? I have multi-ethnic friends who know more about their heritage, like their native languages, traditional foods to eat on certain holidays, and special customs to follow. I’m only one ethnicity, so why don’t I know more about what it means to be Japanese? Why don’t I know how to serve or drink tea properly? Why don’t I watch Anime? Why don’t I like natto? Why don’t I know what my last name means? Why haven’t I been to Japan since I was a little kid when my parents forced me to go with them on a family trip?

I have so many questions, and I don’t know where to start. I feel embarrassed that my first and last name are Japanese, and I basically don’t know anything about what it even means to be Japanese, so why was I so offended? I don’t know who to talk to about this. I mentioned it to my parents casually the other night, and they didn’t seem to understand the entirety of the situation. “There are a lot of mean people in this world, don’t let them bother you” or “they have their issues, you don’t know him and won’t see him again.” I don’t think that’s the point. It’d be naive to think this won’t happen again in the future. I should have probably experienced something like this earlier, so maybe this is my punishment for not being exposed to this. 

I don’t know what I’m expecting now by talking to you. I know I won’t get some resounding voice like Mufasa to speak to me in my dreams and tell me what to do. I also won’t magically receive the answer to my prayers in my fortune cookie from Panda Express at lunch tomorrow. I’m not even sure you can hear me right now. Tens of thousands of people in this world are probably talking to you right now, asking for way more important things like finding a place to sleep or praying for a loved one to get better. It makes me feel selfish, naive, and embarrassed to even talk to you about this when real wars are being fought and children are starving. But I would really appreciate it if you gave me a sign. Is there a way for you to show me somehow what to do? Do I just get over this and pretend it didn't happen? Am I making a big deal out of nothing when so many people have gone through so much worse? How do I be proud of who I am again? Please give me the strength to say my full name out loud again. Please help me not hide behind my face mask and my shortened first name. Please help me be Emiko.