Showing posts with label Chinatown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinatown. Show all posts

19 August 2016

CHINESE TAXONOMY: exploring anglicized chinese culture and identity

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two young chink in a busted ass park

In the last post, I wrote, “The idea of ‘Chinese’ is broken. The idea that people from China can be fixed into ‘Chinese’ much less ‘Asian’ is broken.” Words as ‘Chinese’ serve their utilitarian purpose to group together a people never truly unified in any sort of stable political structure. The very idea of China is in itself synonymous with volatility. When I think of China, of course I think of it as a home. I think of it as the place where I was born and the place where everyone I love is born and the place that in essence, created me. I, however, rarely refer to ‘China’ through pure denotation.

‘China’ to me has always metonymized home, a home that I firmly believe still exists for me in ‘China.’ Yet, ‘China’ has never been home. Never has a one-for-one exchange occurred in my mind where the word ‘China’ explicitly meant home. In Chinese, I would say 回国 or 回家, yet I would almost never say 回中国. terms country while terms home. Yet, the focal power of this statement is in the verb, terming ‘to return.’ The glyph is a mouth, put inside another larger mouth, . Linguistic return in Chinese of course has everything to do with orality. The true home, the 老家 primarily exists by its distinctive dialect and culinary flavors. ‘To return’ means to reverse the act of oral subsumption that occurs outside the home.  

The larger body of ‘China’ does not as for jingo zealots as the French work as a warm port for nostalgia. ‘China’ is a begrudging term for an immigrant to take once away from home to belong to a new, transpacifically dislocated land. To be a ‘Chinaman’ or ‘Chinese’ or a chink means not the same as being a 中国人 or a 华人. The subtle, cultural aphasia that transpires through the forced translation of 中国人 into ‘Chinese’ is a reluctant self-defense mechanism. I believe that only needs be in the initial stages of being and immigrant. There’s no need to defer to ‘Chinese’ when there is power available, when there is respect gained, when there is a life ready to be lived.

Chinks don’t need to translate the idea of being a 中国人 to being ‘Chinese.’ The essence of ‘Chinese’ in English is weakness. ‘Chinese’ means every single stereotype imaginable because they are true. ‘Chinese’ reluctantly defines yourself according to their linguistic practices. There doesn’t need to be a reconciled ‘中国人-chinese.’ I don’t wish to do away with the term ‘Chinese.’ I only wish to decipher and explain its various valences in language and people, so it can grow out of its currently negatively charged state. ‘Chinese’ will never mean, or or 中国人or 华人, but I’m not completely resigned to the purpose of the word. I can only hope that ‘Chinese’ loses the shit it’s slathered in and becomes at the very least a utilitarian word.

This is another reason why I use the words “chink” or “Chinaman” as it is not charged in any positive light and only reveals the indifference and ignorance of the majority of people towards people from China. Chink ignores our history and culture. Chink belittles us. Chink mocks our ‘language. Yet, chink doesn’t try to hide behind a guise of civility to assimilate us and break us. Chinese erases individual chinks into an anonymous surfeit of people. Chink draws out the misinformed. Chink provokes a conversion where Chinese doesn’t.

In linguistics, people from China don’t speak Chinese. A funny parallel would be people of Europe speaking European. Chinese isn’t even a language. Chinese means people from China. It is also a term adopted by the West and by the Chinese Communist Party to concentrate linguistic and declarative power in one blanched term. The closest approximant to what Chinese actually is and does is lexicon. This seems the only constant that people from China linguistically share. Chinese is probably best used to term the collection of words, not even a unified grammar, just a collection of their words. Chinese is then a vocabulary. The five thousand glyphs, in collected list form, creates Chinese. As a lazy metonym for the language, Chinese belies an underlying drive from both China and the idea, not the people, of whiteness to easily group the Chinese people together.

I will however concede that the use of Chinese as an all-encompassing term to group together all the people of China serves a convenient purpose as a sort of linguistic portmanteau. For better or for worst, there are too many types of Chinese ‘language’ (meaning a collection of symbols and sounds that presents a unified communicative code for a group of people) to be condensed and reduced to one word. To hit closer to a Eurocentric mind, to call all the ‘languages’ of China the same would be to call all wines that are red the same or to call all breads the same or to call all cheese the same. Of course, these groups and their categorical headings have proliferated to the layperson as most people have heard of the words “cheddar” and “swiss.” Yet, for “Chinese,” an amorphous entity so prominent in the world, to not warrant any real distinction outside of academia seems especially suspect. The lazy distinction between Cantonese and Mandarin is itself an almost meaningless binary as “Cantonese” is most clearly defined as, “of Guangdong province.” The people from that province however speak a variety of “Cantonese” languages from Hokkien to Toishan to Yue. Mandarin is the proper and sophisticated way of speaking Han Chinese, 汉语, itself of various branches.

A knee jerk reaction, it would seem to me that the reductive use of “Chinese” relates to the historical shame and ridicule that the language presents for migrant speakers and the foreign ears that hear it. To the immigrant in an alien land whose parents speak “Chinese,” learning Chinese is a shame above all. The dominant tangible purpose presented to a young alien in language is the potential to connect with other people and make social connections with the other. When the young chink immigrant learns Chinese, that chink-migrant learns a language that only facilitates communication with other outcasts and outsiders, the other chinks they see. The chink-migrant most likely has very limited means to return to the origin and speak to family. Unless the chink-migrant lives in a place where chink-density is high, this is potentially the most alienating aspect of preserving culture. To learn “Chinese” is to bring the child further and further back into the old ways that have no place in the new home. For the old country to exist in the new country takes an unquantifiable sacrifice in the needed assimilation quotient. This equates to a dual existence where one part is a westerner, speaking a European language, and the other side is a chink who speaks ching chong Chinese on the weekends and at home. As with all migrants, the chink-migrant, already loaded down with generations of alien notions, is demanded to assimilate. To preserve the alien is to prevent assimilation. To not assimilate is to self-castrate.

 “Chinese,” for the people of China, never meant the cohesive meaning of “language” that the Communist Party intended it to mean or what European languages mean to their nations. The distinction for the people of China has almost always been between a script and a spoken vernacular, much like Latin was a lingua franca. This is what Mandarin intends to do by offering a unified, spoken to the already standardized, written . The difference between and is the fundamental divide in “Chinese.” The presently accepted 中文 or 汉语 are meant as synonyms to account for this divide, but have fallen into lazy use as interchangeable terms for “Chinese.” What now occurs all throughout the Chinese world is that the farther removed the person is from their ancestral home, the further removed they are from their original dialect, from their true natal tongue that extends far more back than the singular generation of maternal tongue. Further, in Chinese, the script, while ‘maternal,’ , terms “of the mother,” it also terms, in more a figurative manner, of the origin, of the womb. What to the Chinese is 母语, directly transliterated to maternal tongue, cannot and should not be translated as mother tongue, but more comprehensively, the original tongue.

To reify the chink’s attachment to the past is perhaps the most “Chinese” desire. To return to halcyon pre-imperialist glory is what has driven every single Chinese political movement including and since the end of imperial times. The rejection of imperialism still proves strong in contemporary thought. To reject a Western, European notion of “Chinese” as a skimmed over, generalized “language” is then a way to restore the multiplicities of nuance that create the beauty of a complex China, instead of the simple, monotone China that’s presented in the West.

The fundamental maxims an immigrant should adopt after moving to the West is to not forgot about the historical through line from which they come. The immigrant should strive to continue the legacy of their people in the new country instead of readily accepting assimilationist pressure. The Chinamen who came in the peak of the exclusion era had no other choice but to assimilate, for fear of deportation. No longer do we need to assimilate to overhanging dominant culture. Yet, that doesn’t mean we should be “Chinese” because “Chinese” does not strictly term “of China.” “Chinese” is not the same as 中国人 or 华人. “Chinese” instead has a history steeped in provincial prejudice and xenophobia on part of both China and the West.

For the West, initial waves of John Chinaman came almost exclusively from 广东 province, more specifically the Pearl River Delta. While this is an area that has historically flourished as the focal point of interaction with the West, this area is in reality as detached as can be from the rest of China, a nation itself in constant search of unification. These are the ones who almost exclusively defined Chinese people in America for the first century or so of Chinese immigration to America. For better or worse, their position as the primordial Chinese-Americans has defined every single Chinese person to emigrate from the East. To most, the difference between Cantonese and mandarin is whether one sounds like they have a lisp or whether they sound like birds. In a way, this is right as this is the only true contrast between the two if proper nomenclature is adhered. Neither refers to a group of people and neither refers to a language. They only refer to the way people sound.

A more accurate way to differentiate this is with the Chinese script differentiation of 大陆 (mainland) and 广东 (Guang Dong). This distinction is where a glut of intra-Chinese animosity lies, yet on both sides of the Chinese people. People with Chinese ancestry from Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macao, Singapore use the term mainland to mock the supposed pureness, but also backwardness of the People’s Republic of China. These non-mainland Chinese people subscribe to a post-colonial stockholm syndrome where they look down upon non-colonized Chinese as developmentally retarded. The great British Empire and all its grace gave Hong Kong all its beautiful gifts of Christianity, Western Vice, and shitty tea, so Hong Kong media tends to play themselves up as faithful and exquisite subjects of the Queen with the mainland Chinese as secondary, inbred cousins who were never graced by the majesty of a royal family.

In response, the mainland Chinese through a century of humiliation after the opium war formed a defeated culture of shame—the fundamental Confucian principle of hating yourself to the point of growing. This is where the West interferes most with the construction of Chinese success. After a century of being forcibly drugged, having her hips broken and legs wrenched open, having white navies and armies enter and pillage the country, having the shame of falling from the perch of eminence, the mainland Chinese determined to improve. Yet, to improve for the mainland was wholly steeped in westernizing. The rejection of Confucianism was replaced by Western science and democracy, especially underscored by Christianity. Missionaries came in to proselytize and use our souls as fodder for their corporate ascendancy to heaven. They saw us as actionable stocks to cash in to some god that saw us as depraved devil spawn. In return, they indoctrinated us with opportunities as the Chinese Education Mission by sending only those who were readily accepting of Christian conversion to attend elite American colleges and to return to lead China. The sinister collusion between American higher education and the clergy aimed to put the Chinese under what President Roosevelt approved as the “intellectual and spiritual domination of [our] leaders.” In return, the Chinese looked down upon locals who weren’t Christian and had local schooling. The elevation of Chinese whiteness prominently began.

This change from being drugged and raped by Christianity and Imperialism turned into a full on pandering and fellating of white gods and icons. As it disseminated down to the Chinese, the growth of Western fetishism combined with 大汉注意, or Han Chinese superiority. Han superiority takes place in the form of mandarin standardization, the Chinese slogan that we’re one big family, the idea that we are the same. This is the crux of how the present connotation of “Chinese” came to form. The goal to unify China is one that has guided dynastic successions since the first century. The subsequent two millennia of fracture, internal dissent, and external threats has created a country seemingly unable to unify. By the time imperial China ended, the country fell almost immediately in a depraved network of drug lord warlords that reigned historic regions of the geopolitical present day China. In a way, this almost seems the best way to preserve true and diverse Chinese cultures. Of course, the warlords ranked among the most disturbed human beings to ever acquire power and this regional rule fell into a cesspool of collusion, drugs, prostitution, and apocalyptic destitution. The ruse, the front that the nationalists were successful in truly reuniting China for the first time since the Han dynasty stands among one of the guiding myths of Western, Taiwanese, and Hong Kong hate for the Communists. Chiang Kai-Shek supposedly subordinated the warlords in his mythical 1928 Northern Expedition to create China. Unfortunately, propaganda exists and this lie that still reverberates in public conscience across the Chinese people embellishes reality. The generalissimo, uncoincidentally married to the epitome of Chinese pandering to the west, Song Meiling, unified China by creating a larger cabal of opium accords between the warlords. Chiang Kai-Shek did defeat various warlords, but did unify China in as comprehensive and as unified a manner as Mao would in 1949. It was merely a symbolic unification later promulgated by western propaganda in the Cold War to assert Taiwan as the true China.  

As Mao took the entire country under a banner of communism and streamlined culture, China was unified in appearance, but though the culture destroyed, it still existed in suppressed memory. This is how the Taiwanese are often said to be truer representations of Chinese culture as the nationalists escaped. The continued idea of Chinese then discounts the various historical changes to the culture and the resulting effects. Subscribing to Mao’s blanched “China” and “Chinese” as a continuous, unified culture is nowhere near accurate. Combining the histories of each European country together is more accurate as Chinese history is much longer and has many more people and resulting cultures. To then further lump that into an even more anonymizing Asian is another layer of insult as Asians accounts for 60% of people in the world.

The use of “Chinese” and “Asian” are then easy bleach blottings that severs these people from their histories. To lump all Chinese together makes them an easy target of blanket statements. To discount their history makes them inferior to white people. A Chinaman from Shaanxi is not the same as a Chinaman from Anhui. Each of these provinces has more people than Canada. Each of these provinces has longer histories than any Western country. Yet, the distinctions are never made, they’re just Chinese. Chinese is then exclusively a politically charged term. It can only truly refer to someone who comes from the confines of the present borders of the People’s Republic of China. Internal and external attempts to collate these into a unified word does little to advance the culture or plight of these people.

This is why chinks need to rediscover their familial roots. The food eaten by a chink from Shaanxi is not the same as the food eaten by someone from Anhui. The idea that there is a Chinese food needs some sort of common denominator. It would seem reasonable if this denominator lies in food, yet it lies in physical appearances. To me, Chinese food refers exclusively to chop suey, kung pao chicken, Cantonese-American, and Sichuan-American food. Regional foods made for chink is not Chinese food. To blend our culinary distinctions into one word is why inexplicably Chinese food for its five-thousand-year history is considered among the lowest of foods, synonymous with bodily harm, synonymous with class distinctions.

China is not the home of a chink. The real home of a chink is in their ancestral home, their province, their region. Chinese is not a welcoming or correct way to refer to a chink. It exists as a lazy reminder that the West wants to erase chink history and that chinks are all too happy to do so, that chinks are all too happy to assimilate to a culture that never had a place for them.

04 July 2016

White Chinese / Mandarin Lobotomy / Bleached Behavior: On the initial building of a chink’s view on other chinks and success (Part 2)

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Early on, in the dayz of way back, a chink hopped across the sea and found himself in North America, land of the free, the excluded chinks, the enslaved blacks.[1] A chink, as all good chinks should, went to Chinese school, and before long, a chink learned that not all chinks spoke alike.[2] First a chink meet up with them canto FOBs, then a chink meets them southern FOBs, then a chink meet them white FOBs from the north, yet still to this day, a chink hasn’t met too many real desert FOBs with that dark skin and wavy hair (none of that perm shit).[3]

Of course beautiful thing is, people (of a certain tint) would have you believe that chinks all kind of look like pandas with straight black hair and squinty eyes. It’s easier to hate the orientals coming for your jobs (not your wives or food because those orientals wear strange clothes and seem to be a feminine (?)) when you can envision a wave of similar looking celestials.[4] Obviously not true, but when you grow up with people saying this, it’s almost like people just want you to think about the Chinese as a singular cloud that’s a chink, so whites don’t really have to think of you as individuals, but instead an individual collective, which takes away your claim to be a person. In reality, a chink darker than Greeks and quite a few Indians and middle easterns. It’s easy to think that all chinks are alcohol intolerant, lactose intolerant, rice devouring stickmen. Chinks much more complex than that. People like to imagine that chinkland is one uniform people. We not white bruh, but the chinks trying to connect all chinks in one identity are white. Now, toeing the CCP line, we one big family, but even a family different. This is the problem I have with the idea of a pluralist collective, and the problem most people have with the melting pot. The idea of a big family isn’t any good but for the people at the fore. The idea of familial care, dare I say paternalism, is debasing for immigrants. I don’t fucking want you to pretend to coddle me. I don’t want you to pretend to accept me. I know you never will, so don’t even fucking front. I much prefer a world where you have to fight to keep your culture, where your culture is the only thing you have in the new land. I don’t fucking want your white help, unless I know your help is in pure good faith, if not, you’re just handing me an apple with the core rotten.[5] You should have to fight to preserve your culture. But being white, you already get to. French people, British people, any European people (now at least, sixty years ago, very different), get welcomed and greeted and exalted because you look the same, you’re all white. And how did you all become white? Because of the chinks put between you and the blacks. Chink laborers had to be put below eastern you’reallpee-ans and mediteranians so the anglos[6] could preserve the beauty of whiteness because they, as you probably have realized, a lot of chinks are white. So, yes European nationalism is white supremacy. I will never retract from that. And your nationalism is why my culture is secluded to strip malls, fat choy ching chong and chop suey.

The chinks are only a family because we fall in the same borders. Chinkland is fractured to the point where where northerners hate southerners, everyone hates the dark skinned, minority are fucked with, and the colonial gem of hong kong thinking they’re white, hating on the rest of the mainland, while jews still live in the ghettoes, but so do the muslims.[7] Chinkland is complicated and a young chink growing up in provincial China didn’t really know that chinks spoke differently than his hicks. In a way, this was probably the most significant contribution to young wei’s self-hatred and disgust towards Chinkland. From about 6-18, I hated chinks beyond anything else. Or maybe, a chink just don’t like rich hong kong people who pretend they’re british. Their elites have a post-colonial fetish where they think that because they’re colonized, they better than mainland Chinese. The sentiment is that because they were british servants they’re better than chinks, who were exploited treaty bodies. Ha. That’s my problem with the hong kong superiority complex and it’s not even most hong kong people. The hong kong people who are the colonial machine vastly outnumber the manipulators of the machine but have their voices quashed by the white Chinese hong kong people. The ones who speak only Cantonese get stamped out by the English speaking dogs. Hong Kong elites are affronts to China, I have no reservations on this. The rich in hong kong only get rich by sucking british cock. Same as any sort of white people in a formerly colonized land. None of those people have success without exploiting colored bodies. After the colonization, it still doesn’t stop. Now that hong kong is no longer british, who made you richer? The mainland chinks’ blood. No respect for hong kong elites. When the western media speaks of 富二代as they incessantly do now, they speak of almost exclusively hong kong elites, communist party decendants, and mainland slave trade operators.

Back to chink school. First off, a chink started in traditional Chinese school (lol) because that’s just what a chink’s parents knew of chink schools, absolutely nothing. In reality, this was just a bunch of lols and probably made a chink even more backwards and self-hating. Young wei knew some 500 chink words and some 100 chink poems before the boat, not that impressive, but solid for a five-year-old chink who never really been to school. Sadly, a chink forgot all this because a chink went to traditional Chinese school and forgot all the simplified Chinese a boy already knew. Part of this is lack of exposure to Chinese at this point outside of Chinese school. Part of this is the desire to become a white boi. Part of this is because a chink boi was lazy. Part of this was because a chink boi didn’t like other chinks in chink school because they were all Cantonese speaking motherfuckers richer than young wei. None of this justifies young wei’s failure to maintain language, but part of this attests to the difficulty of being a chink in a foreign land where he got nothing to show him that it’s worth being a chink since all the rich chinks slaving mopping restaurants slinging chop suey and a chinks parents frying burgers with masters degrees and broken chingrish.[8] Nobody wants to be like this.

Speaking chink was just an extension of this disparate state. What’s the point of knowing chink script if it makes you less white. That shit just gonna splatter on the bamboo ceiling when you inevitably hit it. Your stupid ass, self-ashamed foundation make-up at the fucking price of your life per gram is gonna wear away slowly and surely as you keep living a lie. The chink that knows chink language and uses a chink name is not a pretend white, so nobody gonna treat him equitably like a white. Now that chinks have some semblance of self-respect, chinks shouldn’t use bitch ass white names. Back then, it was for survival. Now that we’re past that, chinks have a choice. But, as soon as a chink let a white name them, render them, damn, you done. Kung PAO chicken

[1] Obviously, a chink knows there are many other cases of people getting fucked, but a chink finds the history of chinks and blacks most compelling, for him, because if you reading this, you coming to hear the opinion of a chink, not all chinks, because a chink’s opinions do not equal the opinions of all chinks, because contrary to public opinion, chinks aren’t all the same, but shit, that’s what it be. Anyways, a chink acknowledge that various other ethnic groups get fucked with, but a chink personally (keyword being ‘personally’) engages most with the story of blacks and chinks. Shit, both end with k’s. So two strikeouts. Maybe in search of a third, maybe a strikeout looking.
[2] Granted, I was aware of the existence of Putonghua and supposedly at that time, I was pretty proficient in it. 妈老说边人家的人都说我们一家人的山汉就我一个说的话还好听着,哈哈。Yet, I was not aware that chinks spoke a variety of dialects beyond my own, coming from backwater desert China.
[3] Personal anecdote of note: a chink is not quite a ‘chink’ as most people would believe, a chink was / is a minority that was killed off. This is why a chink called Dang, the refers to the 党项族 of way back when my homeboys been ruling the part of chinkland that a chink was born in. This dynasty we called the Western Xia ruled by the Tanguts at the time when the rest of chink land was ruled by the Song man, the Han man of today, essentially.
[4] Them whitebois first loved the chinks when they first arrived in the frisco bay because those chinks were happy to do some work and then leave in a few to go home with that blood money. Back then when the chinks wore queues, robes, slanted eyes, strange voices, the white people called them celestials because these chinks seemed like beings sent from heaven to do the bidding of the whites. Crucially, these chinks were not the types to easily assimilate, and as such, it was easier to put them in their own lane, away from the regular world. When these chinks started to veer into the lane of regular americans, they became ‘aliens.’ Note the semantic shift, but the lexical parallel.
[5] To use a whiteman idiom lol.
[6] In this sentence, I don’t care to spell your names properly, because hey, no one bothers to learn how to spell Chinese people names properly and we apparently the most populous people and the most powerful.
[7] I love chinese muslims. As a kid, I always had the goddamn greatest food from muslims. The great thing about chink muslims is that there is virtually no way to distinguish them from a normal chink unless they wear their garb. The uyghurs that get the terrorist rep are ironically white looking. I actually went to the chingchong market the other day and a white woman, who I recognized as Uyghur because of her name, spoke to me in fluent mandarin, dare I say more standard, more 标准 than mine lol.
[8] Disagree with me if you want, but this just the world I saw. Parents both worked cantonese restaurants. Moms also worked fast food, pops also worked fast food. Only rich people a chink knew was Cantonese people working in restaurants. Yet, a chink met so few white bois in school whose parents were as educated or ballbusting as a chink’s parents and their friends. Way it goes. Only to hit a bamboo ceiling.

12 April 2016


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not quite the usual appearance of the chink. not the head accessory

In folds, I’ve approached the shaping of the blog. As seen through the personas on display in this blog, various layers, or various barriers and filters add a level of inaccessibility to the writing. These folds of sorts clothe the blog in its own seasons of which three stand out, maybe four with this present series. The teleological drive works towards a unified body of work that may partitions itself into separate frames of reference to date posts better than meta-tags or textual titles. The end product for the reader, I intend, is, again with the idea, “the mind in the act of finding what will suffice.” The dated folds become phases that clarify the progress and continued honing of the central issue of finding what is enough for a chink to be a chink for himself and not others.


It seems appropriate I breakdown the various phases of the blog in a series of Roman numerals, as was first favoured style of the blog. I’ll call it the first fold. Instead of the later self-effacing and bifurcated voice, the earlier posts lacked a distinct voice and erred towards a sort of food blog as identity politics rant space. I am not Eddie Huang and really don’t care about reviewing food. This we can attribute to a problem highlighted by Poorhomiewei—“Fitting in won’t ‘cost you more opportunities’”—The front of a food blog undoubtedly aimed to create a respectable and relatively interesting form that would maybe have the potential to appear on a CV. Again, holding no interest for me, the act is disgusting. But, for the sake of self-reflection, I will discuss what created the first fold and prominently features.

For one, as was the common theme of the early half of the blog, I often eat out. On 春节, again an auspicious marker, Holden, of “SHAANBEI CHINK IN CHINA(CANTO)TOWN” notoriety (the first post to crack a hundred views and the first to really launch the blog’s popularity), suggested I write a food review blog acting as a mouthpiece for my chinkdentity thoughts. It took me three or four weeks, but in the end it did happen and the first piece was the strange and weak “ORANGE ROUGE / YELLOW WHITE” post calling out a restaurant for making Chink food marketed to whitebois in Chinatown. The argument is fine and still stands: white people shouldn’t be trying to pimp out an area where Chinese people live and exploit it as an exotic getaway, as it does not benefit Chinese people at all—no chinks were in the restaurant save for me and the lesser chink (a figure we’ll get to later). This, the first post was in essence the only post in the first fold to speak of the chink problem.

Next came a post on late night / early morning drinking in ATMs on St. Laurent with the infamous (stupid) Labranda Mirash, named “NORTH KOREA, ATMS, OUZO, THE MAIN.” Again nothing important, but as Labranda featured, it’s important to note as Labranda is both dedicated fan and voyeur to the chink question. An entirely regrettable and wholly pointless post follows, “THE JOYS OF READING ON MALL SOFAS” which was written to fill the initial post per day output. Not very noteworthy.

The First Fold entirely lacks the polemical Poorhomiewei and the agreeable 党唯予, yet it still features various perversions of whiteman scripture, castigations of whiteman’s use of chink food, and initial attempts at crafting a voice. The most notable draw is then the relative proximity of the voice in these posts and the voice of the author. For any autobiographical readings, the first fold may be the best choice, but as it is the first fold, maybe it isn’t the best way to go about reading. As there are more folds, the first phase then stands as a draft stage without any real substance, but rather existing for personal archival interest. The first fold is potentially the weakest section of writing. I contemplated deleting it, but that seemed like too much work and altogether meaningless.


I made the second fold as I probably realized after reading the “joys of reading” post that the blog needed to have a voice. Without one, Country Chink Broadsides (yes, it is in italics now) would be no more than a shock value title. On an aside, and for the benefit of explaining the second fold, the original title of the blog came from McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City—Country Chink, Big City. Notice the parallel position of ‘bright lights’ and ‘country chink.’ For whatever reason, it made sense to write an entire blogpost revolving around rap lyrics with various interjections in Chinese. I guess the second fold is the pastiche phase of CCB and continues the preemptive archival store of the blog’s components. This first post, “CAFÉ CRAWL IN LA CITÉ” still remains a favorite. Young Thug, Ezra Pound, Kanye West, Travis Scott, and the opium wars feature.

The next, and extremely important “ON EATING TACOS WITH GRINGOS” speaks to the issue of abusing other ethnicities’ food by eating it as a white idiot. The example is Labranda who ate a taco like a peanut butter sandwich mixed with a burrito. First using a butter knife to coat a tortilla with mild salsa, Labranda proceeded to drop three to four pieces of barbacoa on a tortilla of a three-inch diameter. Labranda then folded the tortilla inwards from the sides to produce a perverse white privilege burrito thing. I cannot let this go. I will never again bring white people who I don’t really like to a restaurant that isn’t run by a pasty faced ghost.

 COOKING DUMPLINGS AT 2AM AFTER CHOSEN FASTING (AND SHIT)” set the foundation for important parts of the poorhomiewei persona:
·      Disregard for grammar or conventional language
·      Aversion to all white people
·      Polyvocality in four languages

The second fold offers, unlike the first fold further interest in terms of allusions and intertexts, but, providing a link with the first, lacks wholly in honed language or ideas. The content does not have inherent value, but the form found in this second fold is the foundational tools of that further pleat Country Chink Broadsides.

Fold two was very much an ornament, or a game.

Also of note, the end of this fold marked the opening up of CCB to the public.


The third fold overlaps with the fourth and features two poems of sorts that continue the formal play of the second fold and express a dissatisfaction at the bland style of distressed jeans + stan smith + jungle fever / rap loving blend of people at McGill.

First off is “FIVE VIEWS OF MCGILL’S MCLENNAN PREMIERE MOISSON CAFETERIA,” a quintet of prose form petrarchan sonnets that describe the boring fashion sense of white people, annoying FOBs who hold strange birthday parties in the library, and the general lack of hygiene of people who use the McLennan cafeteria. Somewhat fun, very niche.

Its sequel “IN THE STATION OF THE (MCGILL, AUS, LEACOCK) SNAX,” faux vegans, Kendrick lamar blaring white girls, and white people being weird are on display. Twelve variations on “In the Station of the Metro.”

This was a strange fold that luckily was kept to two posts. Yet, still enjoyed and appreciated. Shout out to Clhurlurleley. pat on the head. [yellow rain jacket]


Here, CCB took off. With the double post of “HAIL TO THE CHEEF: KEEF AND THE END OF READING WEEK” and “SHAANBEI CHINK IN CHINA(CANTO)TOWN,” CCB started using the x-large setting of blogspot pictures to give the posts some more aesthetic appeal. First picture, of course, was a nice picture of Chief Keef, wholly unrelated to anything discussed on the blog. If for anything else, Chief Keef’s appearance on the blog signals the entry of a militant pessimism of poorhomiewei, a character partly modelled on Keef. The images also follow a similar editing process. Yellow and red tones are highlighted as the images are generally put in hazier focus. This needs no explanation.

These two posts mark the beginning of a concrete poorhomiewei voice with the anger of the keef post and the aggressive pride and overly aggressive tone of the Chinatown post. The writing style from the Chinatown post onwards features heavy formal stylizing and abrasive Chinese pride, but this is still in the same developing phase as the previous posts.

The fourth fold added much needed color to the blog and changed the aesthetic through-line of the text for a much more traditional and appealing look. I do very much enjoy the pictures now.


The ensuing café series marks random musings and a journal like approach to the blog. The chink themes seem to have been abated during this period as I tried to expand the range of the blog. The fifth fold also seems to have went further into formal experimentation to try and entrench the blog in an interesting literary tradition marked by the syllabic verse used in “BASEMENT COFFEE, COSMETIC BITCHES,” the Joyce Carol Oatesian stream of fragments in “WHOLE WORLD GOING BRAZY: WHITE KIDS, STRANGE CAFES AND YG,” and yet another Oatesian technique of breaking a post into its structural fragments in “FERLUCCI FERLUCCI BISCOTTI IN MY WHOLE LIKE I’M a chink?” The recurrent use of women’s writer techniques is an odd byproduct of Miranda Hickman. Shout out there.

Especially of note are the names Joyce Carol Oates and Caroline Shaw. These form the basis for the majority of the next few folds, primarily Oates. There is no Country Chink Broadsides without Oates—an ironic statement considering she is generally considered a racist, out of touch white woman. Sadly, as much as I love JCO, she will always represent the exact type of person I resent. But, her stylizing is transcendent, and I do love her writing above almost any. So there’s that. Also theres this…

Joyce Carol Oates ‎@JoyceCarolOates

for writing funnily of food
Dear Calvin Trillin
has been grill-ed.

10:26 AM - 8 Apr 2016

at least caroline shaw uses ts eliot quotes that help a chink write and doesn’t agree with racist honk man trillin. and it goes on

None of the components of this fold really show anything interesting about the chink voice, but as experiments in form, they establish a good contrast with the sixth fold and beyond. Only with this layer do the next three have the same poignancy.


Here we finally see the content matured. Well, at least to the extent of cohesion and appeal. Whereas the earlier folds were met with confusion, these two (and a liminal auxiliary) manifestoes mark the first real spike in readership of the blog.

In the seminal “ON THE CHINK VOICE AND ESTEEM,” the formal experimentation and polyvocality come together and create the blog’s manifesto. The introduction of the epic anaphora/catalogue also appears here. For any new readers, this should be the first post to read. “Chink” also marks the first post with any real poignancy. I accept and will argue that all previous posts, maybe not “Shaanbei Chink,” are rather indulgent, but “Chink” stands as the most important contribution to date, at the time of its publishing.

The next “ON WHITES REVIEWING CHINKFOOD.” is quite honestly shallow in terms of nuance, and in all honesty, meant as a joke post. But, it nearly has a thousand views, so there’s that. The general gist is that a chink lectures a whiteman on trying to REVIEW chink food and fold those standards inside out to please white palates. Not very good. I do abide by the idea that chink food, for me, AS THE TEXT CREATOR AND THE ONLY PERSON THIS IS (ACTUALLY) WRITTEN FOR, represents too much of a nostalgic soft spot to allow white people to bastardize. Criticize me, but I won’t waver on this opinion. I don’t want to tell a white man how to be a privileged whore, so he shouldn’t tell me how to eat peasant food. A chink gon leave it at that.

The final, anecdotal post of this fold blends together the new voice of the blog and tries to keep together the food through line, “PROSTRATION AND NOSTALGIA.” The post features allusions to Milton, Eliot, Pound, Confucius, Shaanbei chink peasants and whiteboi Simon friend of the blog. Maybe a bit of wordsworth? Whatever he’s just another one of those whitemen. From this point on, the dominant form of the posts is in regular prose, for better or worst.

Yet, this fold and its relatively orthodox style opens a further approach to reconfiguring style that the next fold represents. The vatic voice of these posts does not last, and for good reason, as the sixth fold marks the end of a collective voice and the real emergence of poorhomiewei and dwy


And now into the present stage.

The first post effectively erases all the pretense at being a food blog with the title, “CENSORED CHINK AT MCGILL, A SUPPOSED HOME FOR FREE SPEECH (THOUGH FREE SPEECH ONLY IMPLIES TERRORIST-EXTREMIST FEMINIST EXPLICIT HEADHUNTS) (NON-FOOD RELATED).” The first white character vilified is the mcgill tribune, a disappointingly stick-up-the-ass organization of censorious idiots. Somehow mcgil tribune allowed an article about “race and rent” to be published with very little discussion of chink representation in drama when a chink is the primary interviewer. A chink felt real disrespected when the article turned into a handjob featuring a discussion into how great the mcgill theatre program is. mcgill tribune then shot down an article on chris brown and his and the general public’s OK at indifferent chink jokes. We’ll let that sit for a bit. Also, I got called anti-black and too bold. Well, it’s not my newspaper.

Unfortunately, this happens again with “CENSORED CHINK AT MCGILL 2—A CHINK ONLY GONNA TAKE SO MUCH (EMAILS IN RESPONSE TO EMAILS RESPONDING TO EMAILS)” in which a chink is told by what to be offended. Lets just leave it at that.

In this process, the personas of Poorhomiewei and 党唯予 emerge. (but that’s for another post).

Regarding the local development of the blog, this introduced the epistle genre and subsequent posts exclusively featured letters. This is not quite the right post to discuss the Poorhomiewei and 党唯予 dynamic, so we’ll let that sit for a while.

The seventh fold ultimately relies heavily on the matured formal mechanics that have created these two voices and allowed experimentation in the epistle genre, somehow, again, JCO returns to take over me.

delay my publishing by six days like / i have to fold for a class on whitebois?
something something something unfolding, / trying to write my them before twenty?