Who Killed Vincent Chin?

I did...with my ignorance.

When did I become the stupid one? It's incredible to think that after all these years, after all the rhetoric I've spewed, I've fallen into every stereotype I thought I so cleverly sidestepped. Girls are lame. Asians are naive. Pretty people don't even try, because everything gets handed to them. When did this happen? As long as I was in school, I was the opinionated whipsmart hard-working Amazon. I barely kept up with the national news because, well frankly, I didn't have to; attitude and instinctual intelligence were enough to get by in most social situations. After all, does anybody give a hot damn about local news? Who even knows who's on the city council or state senate?

The answer, it turns out, is Everybody. How did I not get the memo?

In the end it was just book-smarts. I've become purely ornamental now, because I'm so handicapped in worldly knowledge that I opt not to say anything, over saying something idiotic. Today, for instance, there was a viewing of the documentary about Vincent Chin with a panel discussion, and I feel CERTAIN that I would have been smacked upside the head, by all, if I had admitted the truth that I had no idea who Vincent Chin was. Or last Tuesday, when I went to the National Womens Political Caucus meeting supporting Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign, I was the only person there who didn't know which Sacramento leaders were throwing in their support for which candidate.

You can picture me standing there, nodding and smiling blankly. Let me tell you, it's a fucking uncomfortable, out of body experience.

The only thing worse was when I pretended like I knew what I was talking about (I was able to comment a bit about present-day Detroit; not that I fooled anyone for one second, I'm sure). As I rambled on about the economic depression and abandonment, I would see this Expression creep into my listener's faces. It resembles that pitying look I used to give my students when I was trying to be encouraging.