Rainman + Yao Ming = Harmony

I'm not white.

For the few of you that read this that don't know that fact you are in for a rude awakening. Sure my constant references to Gossip Girl, Whole Foods, and Kanye West may have fooled you, but the truth is that I'm as brown as Charlie. Or rice. Or whatever is brown, but don't say turds because that will accelerate the deflation of my self worth. Being brown does have its advantages such as getting entry into the Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University based solely on the color of my skin and not the content of my GPA.

Sorry white people with better grades. Blame MLK.

Being a minority in suburbia in 1997 wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Not that it was cracked up to be anything. So maybe it WAS what it was cracked up to be? I'm not sure what's happening right now. I always felt slightly out of place in most situations. It always felt like people were watching me a little closer and keeping an eye out on what I would do.

Mainly because my fly was down. I blame the Arizona Jean company.

It may have been paranoia, but I did feel it at times. Playing sports as an extreme minority brings out a lot racial situations. There were plenty of times jokes would be made by opposing teams referring to "dot heads" or "turbans" to try and make fun of me. Which when you think about it is ridiculous. How can you wear a helmet on top of your turban? Come on people, simple logistics. Take physics class.

The wisecracks weren't limited to other teams though. There were jokes made by kids in our own locker room about smelling weird and horrific puns off of my dad's name. It never really stopped in high school and to be honest I never said anything about it because my dad had told me it was going to happen. I just gritted my teeth, nodded, and went home thinking life would have been a lot easier if I was white.

America is still a land where everyone is stereotyped. As we've progressively gotten more diverse those stereotypes have been broken down time and again. An Indian person isn’t always a doctor, works in IT, or owns a gas station. They can be a rap star. A Jewish person isn't always your agent, a lawyer, or a materialistic teenage girl. They can be a rap star. An Italian isn't always on Jersey Shore, in the mafia, or running a pizza place. They can be...well you get it. Wow, there are a lot of rappers. You would think they would make their living in a less crowded field. Stereotypes affect perception of people and whether they can do certain things. This brings me to one person in particular.

Jeremy Lin.

If you've noticed in the past few weeks there has been much said of one Jeremy Lin and for good reason. He's an anomaly. He is now an NBA star, but he is only one of 4 NBA players to have gone to Harvard. As little as 3 weeks ago he was sleeping on his brother's couch which I guess made him homeless. He received no scholarship offers coming out of high school.

Oh, and he's Asian.

To be fair there have been a few Asian players in the NBA led by the Jay-Z lyrical pal Yao Ming. (Aside: My favorite part of that song is not the fact that Jay-Z felt the need to drop Yao Ming in there for another reason than showing off the fact he could put Yao Ming in a song, but it is all the other name dropping his does in that song. Oprah, JFK, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Steve Madden, Beanie Sigel, Memph Bleek, Chris Rock, Stephon Marbury, Louis Vuitton, and, of course, Rainman. Any time I listen to that song I imagine those people to be in homeroom and Jay-Z rapping their name and they have to raise their hand and say, "present." How has no rich uppity school hired him to do it one day? "Can I get a what what for Adam Johnson in the front row, followed by Tanya Monson in the back? Uh, what I mean is that Janet Adams is all whack, but Tommy Sanders ain't all that... JOHN CROW WHERE YOU AT?!?!") What makes Lin different is that he's not a 7'6" giant. In NBA terms he is an "average" 6'3 200 pounder with mad hops and skills like someone that has skills.

Keepin' it real.

Lin has been tearing up the NBA and setting records for most points in his first 7 career starts and leading the Knicks back to respectability. He’s turned the team around and given life to a city dying for a basketball winner. This is what columnists around the country tell me. They also don’t understand how Lin could have been overlooked for so long. He’s obviously very good, how could not ONE school in the country offer him a scholarship. As I’ve been reading these articles many writers pussyfoot around the topic of race. They say Lin went to a small school. He fell through the cracks. Some say his jump shot wasn’t good enough. Many of these articles are written by people who have never been given a sideways glance due to the color of their skin. But they don’t say what they really mean. Jeremy Lin didn’t get a scholarship to play basketball because of one big reason.

He’s Asian.

Asians aren’t supposed to be able to dunk, or run fast, or be quick off the dribble. They are supposed to be maddeningly unathletic and love Hello Kitty. When coaches looked at Jeremy Lin they saw a good ASIAN basketball player. How could he match up against more athletic guys? They couldn’t separate his race from his ability. Some coaches have come out and said “Lin was the best player on the floor,” in his championship game, but just a “nice player.” Does that make any sense?

I feel confident in saying that Lin was stereotyped because I’ve been stereotyped my whole life. When people look at me they don’t think “he’s athletic.” They think he can probably keep the right score. I’ve been picked last many times. When I moved to LA I would play pickup basketball, ask someone if I could play next with them, then watch as I got kicked off the team when someone else who “looked” better showed up. I’ve had to prove myself over and over again. People don’t know that I shot thousands of shots at my basketball hoop in my driveway growing up. Or played thousands of hours of baseball. One of my friend’s boyfriends once said “You’re the best Indian basketball player I’ve played with.” Not one of the best players, but an Indian qualifier.

Minority Report.

I’ll be honest. I don’t really watch the NBA. It bores me with its constant timeouts and infinite “tallness.” Last week was the first NBA regular season game I’ve watched in 5 years because Jeremy Lin was playing. I was intrigued. I wanted to see the hype. I wanted to vicariously live through him that moment seeing as he’s tearing down stereotypes. I wanted to envision an NBA with a guy running around with a turban. Jeremy Lin may not carve a path for future Asian players, or Indian players, or Alien players from Mars that won’t be overlooked due to skin color. He’s not Jackie Robinson. Hell, he’s not even Barack Obama. But he’s making people realize then when someone is damn good at something maybe they’re just really good and that’s what we should judge them on.

Or maybe we’ll judge them on their rapping.

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Just Breathe. And Other Tips On How Live.

I read Slate Magazine. Contrary to popular belief this does not make me smarter, more well rounded, or give me a larger vocabulary than the general population. I was already all of those things. Hey-Oh! Ego burn. Anyways, I enjoy Slate due to their vast array of topics and writers who seem to pick at things that most of us don't even think about. I also enjoy them because of their cheeky rotating scroll, which in typical newspaper esque headline writing, is called, "The Slatest."

"Guys, we put an 'S' in front of 'latest' and it spells out our name plus what just happened. Can I get a What What from Web Development?!?!"

You can get smart writing on topics that integral to America on Slate on a daily basis. The Republican Primaries. The Debt Crisis. How to live longer. If hibernating animals get up to go to the bathroom. Yes, that's correct; on the front page of Slate today is a very important article on if a bear does, in fact, take a dump in the woods. A question many generations have been sarcastically saying in retort to obvious questions asked by other people. Hard hitting journalism at work.

When are they going to break down the sound of one hand clapping?

But none of those topics really even matter. (Aside: If you're still intrigued by if hibernating animals do in fact get up to go pee, the answer is yes. The answer is given in the second paragraph of the story which then goes on unnecessarily for 3 more paragraphs. It was basically the Phish of Slate articles.) There's really only one section of the online magazine that I read on a regular basis. Sure, I read about Gingrich's Literal Moon Bounce House and the fact that scientists have been messing with Avian Flu that can eventually help create dangerous bio weapons, but that really doesn't tickle my fancy every day. There's only one place that does that on Slate.

Dear Prudence.

I'll admit I'm a sucker for any kind of letter. If it starts with "Dear," "To Whom It May Concern," or "My brother you have a windfall of $1000000 GBP," I'll always read it. But people writing letters for advice are massively entertaining for me. Growing up I would get the Sunday paper and immediately flip to the Life section where I could read the hilarious trials and tribulations of Beetle Bailey and Garfield, while doing only half of the Junior Jumble due to its ridiculous secret phrases. Right there on the page across from those was the Dear Abby part of the paper. Or was it Dear Ann? I don't know, but I'm more enamored with the fact that two sisters (And neither of their names were Abby or Ann) could both have advice columns. Can you imagine those Thanksgivings?

"So kids, I have this 'friend' who got pregnant, but doesn't want the dad to be involved because his family is very intense."
"I got this sis."
"Wait, why do you always get this?"
"I just had some woman ask me the same thing in my..."
"I have a column too! MAAAAAAA! Which one of us should answer this?"
"Well, Ann. You can go first."
"ANN ALWAYS GOES FIRST. I HATE YOU."
"Suck it Abby."

I'm not sure if it's a secret love of drama that I have, but I immensely enjoy Dear Prudence. It's fascinating that people would take advice from some woman that they don't even know. Who is Prudence? There is no way that's a qualified person that's giving advice. Prudence. I wouldn’t trust anyone with that name mainly because it sounds too hoity toity for my taste. Why not just call it Dear Grey Poupon? Or Dear Mummy the Limo is Late? It could be any Joe or Joan off the street yet people still write to "her" like she's Dr. Mother F'in Drew. I would love to see a Prudence Prudencensky PHD in something. Can someone provide that? The other day I noticed I was actually getting fired up at some of the questions people were asking. Here are some examples of questions being asked. (Abridged versions)

“I farted in the middle of the night with my boyfriend in bed. What should I do?”

“I have fallen in love with a man, but he’s allergic to cats. I’m thinking about giving up my 8 year old cat and my friends are incredulous! What should I do?”

“My girlfriend and I are going to a wedding. She told me she made out with 3 groomsmen, but before we ever met. I’m horrified and don’t want to go to the wedding. What should I do?”

“My husband has grown a beard. I find it unattractive and told him to shave it. He won’t! Now we’re barely speaking. What should I do?”

“I dropped a piece of fruitcake on the ground. It’s only been 3 seconds. What should I do?”

“I have to pee. What should I do?”

All of those are real questions to Prudence*. Are we this helpless in America that we’re asking strangers for help? You farted? Your friends want you to keep your cat over someone you’re in love with? YOU HATE BEARDS?!?! YOU HEATHEN. Ahem. And even though these questions are so ridiculous in nature and don’t require any “advice” at all I still read what Prudence has to say. While I’m reading these I’m usually trying to imagine what’s going through her head at that instance. I’ve narrowed it down to one thought.

I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this.

To be fair Prudence does give the obvious advice with a bit of snark on the side. As for the farting one her advice started with “It’s obvious that upon waking yourself up with your trumpet blast, what you should have done was gotten dressed, gathered your things, moved to another town, and changed your name” All that was needed was right after that sentence a pop up showing up with sound saying, “No she Did UNT!” and two snaps. I, for one, don’t begrudged Prudence, whoever you are. People in this country love getting advice about anything. It’s entertaining and unnecessary all at the same time. I hope one day I have a very solvable problem to ask her too.

Or I’ll see what she says about one hand clapping.

*unconfirmed

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