Showing posts with label Chinese School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinese School. Show all posts

29 July 2016

WHITE CHINESE / MANDARIN LOBOTOMY / BLEACHED BEHAVIOR: CHINESE SCHOOL SURGERY AND BROKEN CHINESE (PART 4)


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sadboi chink bday
Mandarin advanced by Chinese School and Chinese culture erases the Chinese person's ties to home.


Memories of my first days off the boat from China are sparse save for Chinese school. On my first Saturday in Canada, my father brought me to Chinese school. For the next ten years, a chink spent every Saturday morning of the school year in Chinese school. This would be the longest exposure I had to other Chinese people and also the most hate I ever felt towards other Chinese people.

With a standardized accent, the young and developing chink sunders from the comfortable pre-memory natal home and instead goes into the larger abstraction of China. Take for example a place as Canada. Not only is Canada the second largest nation by land area, but it also boasts a pretense and front of racial protection and multiculturalism.[1] The end result is the absence of a unified Canadian identity that meaningfully accounts for the darker people in Canada. Ideas of hockey, skiing, saying ‘eh,’ being apologetic are all distinctively Canadian, but also distinctively white and rich activities and tendencies. Hockey and skiing are not available to poor people or middle-class people Saying ‘eh’ and being apologetic are linguistic blankets derived from irish/Scottish/british accents that have no space for colored people. Canadian people twistedly pride themselves on these ‘wrong’ stereotypes before professing their collective love for these misattributions. For a country so dead set on professing its multicultural and inclusivity, its stereotypes and tropes don’t cede much in terms of color. Instead, a collective Canadian identity, for the most part, includes turbaned and slanty eyed people speaking from middle-class and up positions alarmingly white like and assimilated. The collective Canadian identity of ‘accomodation,’ to me, seems as blank and blanched as their snow. To account for this, the fuckboi whiteboi posterboi Justin Trudeau calls his country the world’s “first postnationalist country” and without “core identity, no mainstream.”[2] Seems like a very evasive evaluation of a country at a crossroads with its colored identity, although, this position I approve as he makes no pretense at painting Canada as unified because it isn’t.

Relating to the sons of chink diaspora, broken Canadian identity and its blanched upper layer relays what I call the bleaching of the Chinese mosaic through mandarin standardization. When Chinese schools force a standardized accent and mock outsiders, it creates further generations of chinks that are only of China, not of their 老家.[3] They become part of an imagined community to which they never truly belonged. Once out, the truest tie we have to China is through family, that which physically carries the 老家 across sea. The rise of a national identity through vernaculars might work organically on a small scale, but on a large untenable level, a vernacular is forced, not naturally developed. Spoken Chinese isn’t the organic and fanciful language transmitted down for 5000 years, but a revisionist organic language meant to be perceived as organic. The original mandarin, 官话, was a dynastic court language meant as a lingua franca. With the limited court culture that chinks had for the entire span of dynastic China, assimilating to the utilitarian surround meant ascent. Through this, the very physical ties that a chink has to the 老家 physically dies through the accent and the dialect.

The phonological changes a speaker takes to voice their accent is their physical connection. Through Putonghua, these physical habits are beat out through shame. The chink that can’t voice mandarin x’s or g’s or h’s or y’s has his tongue mocked. When he tries to wrestle his tongue into position, he tries to excise the chink out of the chink. The chink’s tie to the 老家 is violently wrested out of them by the crowd and its pressures of standardization.

Accents, for the most part, aren’t indiscernible, rather, they voice certain consonants differently. Of course, certain dialects are impossible to understand, say Cantonese or Fukkien or Shanghainese—linguists would call these different languages as they aren’t mutually intelligible with Mandarin. The only way for them to communicate is through script. In this sense, chinks so different have for centuries physically relayed their minds through script to connect with each other. But the distinction between script and holistic language is important to note as most chinks from before the twentieth century were illiterate. Only those rich enough to pierce a saturated market of imperial examination tutors could read. Most chinks can go at most three generations before everyone becomes illiterate.

Chinks who actually speaks mandarin and reads Chinese, a language built on prediction, context, and practice, would usually have no major troubles understanding most dialects. The accent, again for the most part, is an aesthetic distinction not so different from using different sentence construction or different slang (idiolects). In Chinese school, the main irony comes from school teachers[4] who for the most part can’t speak proper mandarin themselves.[5] These teachers naturally prefers little chink girls from big city who speak good 国语. The gender split for immigrant chinks stands in stark difference from the usual male favoring views people hold. A common example are the various stories told by Chinese immigrants of parents who laud friends’ children to galvanize their own. After so much practice, this becomes second nature and spreads to Chinese school. Of course when people attend Chinese school, no one is asking for experience in immigrant chink politics, but rather ‘Chinese’ language education. Also favored are fuckboi chinks who need fucking kneepads from all the lip service and rule obeying they’re doing. Almost no one in a Chinese school classroom is there by choice, which is, of course, unfortunate because their culture on the outside is caricaturized and exoticized, while on the inside is foisted upon them by parents who know, for the most part, nothing of 软爱 and only 硬爱.[6] Effectively, the chinkese classroom is a second-rate shanghai whorehouse that thinks it’s a gentleman’s club. The various ‘extra-curriculars’ that Chinese schools feature are all just varied ways to promote unified, big city, mandarin to humiliate the chinks that can’t talk proper mandarin. The chinks with accents, or bigger eyebrows, or hair on their legs, or darker skin are thrown to the side and embarrassed because they come from the non-metropolis.[7] The non-metropolis chink is the nigger of the white chink world. The non-standardized mandarin dialect is the ebonics of China.

Of the special activities offered and promoted in chinkese schools, all feature special talents a non-metropolis chink cannot hope to grasp. From Chinese oratory to brush painting to chinkese brain teasers, the knowledge needed does not pass down to the non-metropolis. The knowledge needed chiefly requires the key of proper mandarin. The general assembly hosted by the hegemonic chink school council features pretty little waist fuckboi chinks puckering their lips, reciting and reciting and nodding and nodding the fine tongue-twisting speeches and poems of chinkese essays in proper mandarin. These essays and speeches of course are accessible to all chinks no matter where they come from. The crucial issue is that, dislocated, a young chink loses all ties to what kind of regional chink he truly is. A nice young boy from the desertified steppes of 陕北 reaches will lose every part of his 陕北ness when he starts following the linguistic rules of the chinkese school oligarchy.

Say we consider China a polyphonic group of people united by a history of five millennia and borders, yet still a complex mix of distinct identities, primarily transmitted by linguistic differences, the beauty of the Chinnese chorale would be in its distinctive textures. Of course, in the real China, most youths do flock to the metropolis, but will return home on new years and, hopefully, maintain their ties to the 老家. When the chinks go eastward to the ‘west,’ for the most part the 老家 disappears, long forgotten. These chinks no longer have a way to talk with 婆婆奶奶. These chinks won’t even remember what 老家is twenty years after they’ve moved east. The mandai-arh-ren-standardization of ‘white’ Chinese schools then lobotomizes the chink of their connate chink consciences.

Inside all chinks that want to connect with their inner chink is a hick. For whatever reason, I started talking in陕北话because it sounded interesting and distinctive. It was a language no one else spoke around a young chink, a language that the only people a chink heard speak were a chink’s family. Most other young chinks and their mandarin speaking family and friends would go on speaking the same diluted and normalized language for the majority of their lives. Most other young chinks[8] go on hearing the same dialect for the majority of their lives. Most other young chinks assume that what they speak is the prevalent language of chinks. Compounded with young chinks who already ashamed of their parents who don’t know how to cook burgers or speak proper English, most other young chinks assume that any sort of chink not speaking the proper standardized mandarin are lesser chinks who are a class below them, ones already a class below them. The fabric of chinkland’s various dialects reflects the living conditions of those chinks, in turn reflecting the patchwork timbre of a billion plus peoples’ lifestyles—they can also be classed sociolects or ethnolects. Natural impulse would have it that these lifestyles are stacked upon each other. No one can truly be blamed for this. As no person is blamed for this, the only thing to be blamed is the caustic whiteness hovering at the top.

This whiteness comes back to skin and language.[9] The cleaner the skin, of course, the more civilized the person, as they wouldn’t have been exposed to the sun to any meaningful time. The white chinks and the black chinks are separated this way, not across the spectrum of course, but for the most part the darker the chink, the dirtier the chink, the ruder the chink, the chinker the chink. The cleaner the language, the more civilized the chink, the clearer the tone, the whiter the chink, the chinker the chink, the harsher the tone, the rougher the pronunciation. The whiter the chink, the harsher the heart, the further away from home. This is why I chose to reject the mandarin being foisted on me.

Of course, with the success of mandarin normalization comes the erasure of history and erasure of individuality. Mandarin normalization is of course a distinctly communist policy, but the idea of a good language and the propagation of etiquette is a the whitest a white can whiten.[10] The Chinese School party line comes from the funding they receive from state sponsored education agencies who furnish their schoolrooms with propagandized textbooks. I can understand the loathing felt by a teacher, who like me cannot speak proper mandarin. I can understand that this resentment becomes, pursuant to Confucius thought, a strategy guided by beating the system, the whiteness, by being whiter than the whiteness hovering atop. Yet, most of these teachers undertake teaching Chinese school as a hobby. No one working at a Chinese school, unless unduly rich, only works at Chinese school. The pay amounts to working two hours a week on just above minimum wage. The idea of the Chinese school teacher then necessarily falls into hobbies. The Chinese School teacher, who I imagine, is innately driven by love of pedagogy and Chinese culture. The idea that these are cherished interests to them is then incongruous with the idea that they would purposefully blanch out diversity. Yet, this blanching is so characteristic of Chinese culture. The schoolteachers are then complicit, whether by intention or not, of perpetuating a mandarin supremacy in the linguistic surgery room of formational language classes. They aren’t the surgeons. That would give them undue agency. They are the scalpels. The culture is the anesthetic. The ruling power is the surgeon. The history is hospital.

The idea of “Chinese” is broken. The idea that people from China can be fixed into “Chinese” much less Asian is broken. To fix this, to create a whole China, chinks need to refind linguistic attachment to that culture. Mandarin grants them access to other Chinese. Mandarin covers the glut of what a Chink would hope to get out of China. But Mandarin doesn’t hold the chink. The Chink as an individual is the老家, not the metropolis.





[1] As repeatedly discussed through the blog, on posts as On Killing Yourself with Comfort, I’m opposed to the idea of white people saying they’re multicultural and hedging off minorities into distinct aesthetic without trying to understand them. I think multiculturalism is a sly way to create the other by saying that whites are ok with people being different and that whites won’t antagonize us. I’d rather have them say the truth than lie like this. I don’t want their diabetic honeyed truth. Whites are great actors. That’s why oscarssowhite. Because whites are the best at feigning compassion. They can’t feel compassion downwards. They can only feel compassion for their own. This is what happens when whites start taking over deviant movements. They transform these grassroots ideas to a hegemonic white deviance. Fuck that shit. I don’t want white people to be gatekeeping what I am. I don’t want them saying it’s ok to be multicultural. I’d rather fuck them up and get that right for myself.
[2] http://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/13/magazine/trudeaus-canada-again.html
[3] This term refers to ‘home,’ but for the Chinks, this is a distinct home from a white conception of home. The chink conception of home is perhaps closer to a white conception of a Thanksgiving dinner table. Most chinks most never live in their actual 老家, instead they live in cities and of course, the metropolises. Chink land wasn’t even mainly urban until five years ago. So, where do all the chinks come from? The 老家 where their lines are buried. The 老家 that’s their true self. The true self that they try to hide. The hiding that allows for apparatuses as mandai-arh-ren to wipe out the chinks when they go further east.
[4] In many years at Chinese school, never have I seen or heard of a male teacher.
[5] They can’t speak proper mandarin because for the most part, no one who can actually speak proper mandarin will leave and the ones that do are in the minority of chinks. These kinds of chinks are the worst of tiger figures who try to do what’s good, but instead toe the party line, a line that isn’t built on kindness or humane results. Essentially, they think they’re whites just because they’re teaching whitened Chinese, but they’re still coolie chinks. There’s no reason to avoid it. There’s no shame in being what they are, but there is shame in pretending they’re white.
[6] Here, I could use an English binary of soft / tough love, but for the chinks, the difference is that soft love never existed for parents and theirs and all the way back to Confucius knows when. In any case, I feel like these sorts of idioms are best used in the lingual contexts that they come in, so in this case, Chinkese because soft / tough love is different for whites and chinks. For chinks, the most of whom are at the bottom trying to move upwards, tough love is effectively soft love because there are far worst alternatives to being smacked and ridiculed into becoming better people. In whiteland, a chink will not succeed if not pushed because they start spotting everyone before the game even starts. Soft love does not work unless the chink is somehow purely self-motivated. The gloom of shame must linger over a chink for them to ascend. A chinkese apotheosis cannot occur without some penumbra to go past. For whites, the sky above seems clear and the way up seems more fluid and clean than the hazy mist of a 陕西chink.
[7] A distinction must be made between ‘city’ and ‘metropolis.’ Of special note is chinkland’s own valuation of its cities in tiers. The big ones, Shenzhen, Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, from where most chinks whites meet are from, are markedly more advanced than the non-first-tier ones. With this actual superiority comes its associated complex. This of course spills over into the language used. Ironic, however, is the local dialects spoken in each region. Yet, as soon as one of these chinks run to the west (or from chink-land centric view, further east), they all become neutered chinks that fall into the cookie cutter mandai-arh-ren because they uppers want them to forget about the homeland. Of course, these metropolises only exist by the mass influx of foreign workers, read acknowledged/accepted migrants, that are not from the metropolises at all.  
[8] I should probably clarify that the chinks discussed here are primarily diaspora chinks in America. This doesn’t refer to the chinks who ‘really’ grew up in chinkland.
[9] Sadly, the best way to model this, I believe, is to use the image of the layer of fat rising to the top of heated milk. Of course, this is only aesthetic. The fatty film that rises to the top of milk is usually discarded, even though for a chink it is the most delicious part. The skimmed out, diluted milk is drunk, and the essence of milk’s nutrition is flushed down the drain. As a child, that was the most delicious part of milk for a chink. This is how mandai-arh-ren cleans the black chinks and only allows for white chinks to exist.
[10] Again, it seems important to remind the reader that any ‘race’ may be white. Whiteness isn’t directly tied to being a pastyfaced mouthbreathing foreign ghost, but of course, among the WP, whiteness is most prevalent.

05 July 2016

White Chinese / Mandarin Lobotomy / Bleached Behavior: Chinks, Rejecting white language power, and New English Shit (Part 3)


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before engrish: CALIBER CALIBER CALIBER







Part I: INTRODUCTION

To this day, one of the things I hate most about myself is that I allowed some white whore[1] to give me a white name so it would be easier for white people to conceptualize me as a lesser version of them. I’d have a first name of the same east-west style as them, but the real name, the real legacy, that banner shit, still be a chink. Any other romanized language is greeted with warm hands by a white. Any sort of European name is accepted. When a chink comes in with a name with a shit ton of vowels, dipthongs, fancy tongue technique, ain’t no whites gonna respect that.

You named something like martin, some shit like nick, man that’s a white name. You named something like xiujing, whites laugh you into a pile of shit. When you change that name to something like john, they see you. They got eyes. You got eyes. You got a gut. They feel you. They smell the cum on your breath. They smell the cock on your mouth right from your papers. No one gonna respect you like that. Nobody gonna respect a thing passing as an individual, especially when chinks are still spotting a white 50, cupping his balls, giving his wife a pedicure, and teaching his kids math, being that honk’s accountant, never on his board.

To this day, I hate myself because it took so long to realize that young wei was too much of a pussy to fight back. Moms, before the first day of school, said not to let them white fucks to fuck with you. They fight you, you smack their eyes out. No way they see you as a chink if they can’t see you. You speak better English than them anyways. You cannot let them speak better, write better, read better than you. They gonna take your culture away from you by mocking your language, by mocking your writing. So you take their language. You master it. You fuck them up their pale little wide ass eyes with it.

I guess at a young age, it would’ve been impossible for me to understand that they’ve been practicing more and more indirect, more toxic ways of fucking with a chink. If they aren’t hitting you, can’t really hit them back. They set you out as their friend. They tell you you isn’t like them other chinks. You speak English proper. You dress like a whiteboi. You know all the same culture that a white boi know. But you still isn’t European. They’ll never accept you when you start bringing them tofu snacks to school. They can steal your fucking tofu. They can rape the culture out of your food. They can take your culture and tell you they do it better. And you nod. You wag your head. Because your subservient. Because you’ve been lulled to think they your friends. You see them other chinks who only coolin with other chinks and you think damn these chinks not cool enough to cool with the whites. You speaking their language now. You speaking like you’re white. You’ve mastered their language. You know it better than them. You just imbibing their poison. You speaking like them now. You speak their speak you poison with their poison. Because you can’t let yourself become their other. You can’t let yourself become different from them. You can’t fight that euro Dijon mustard gas. This ain’t your ching chong mustard seed oil.

Now I know.

If ever I have a child, no way he gonna kowtow to their rules.[2] Rules and conduct don’t work if they’re unilateral. Rules and conduct don’t work if the only thing the rules allow is for one side to continue winning. Why should a chink keep playing by those rules? That’s tantamount to killing yourself. This is how you kill yourself in America—when you play by the rules, the ones not made or meant for you, as an outsider the ones it’s truly meant to poison, as poison of which packaged like candy.

But when a chink talks to people, those first couple bites are sweet. Then you get to know people and you taste the cheap candy coating that’s there to trick you. That’s what a chink feel when he talks to people who polite and well-mannered and generally agreeable. Whenever a white person is nice to a chink, initially at least, a chink always sus. You give em five more minutes with you and they turn. Can’t ever really escape.[3]

So a chink became and probably, for the majority of the time, still is the exact kind of pussy ass, subservient, servile chink he hates. A chink has a hard time being brash and abrasive in person to anyone. A chink was always unconsciously, consciously, fully intentionally spotting whites politeness points. This is probably why I don’t feel any need to really be all that polite or interested in people these days.

Slowed down speech, smiles and laughs, and sudden fear of speech are the three hallmarks of the way I interact with white strangers.[4] In a way, a chink just created his own bamboo ceiling since he couldn’t muster up the Mongolian balls of steel. This is why politeness and etiquette smother downwards. If a chink finna respect and look up to decorum, the decorum clamps down on him and a chink just suffocates on self-hatred. Only thing winning is the white thing atop making the arbitrary rules of decorum. Personally, a chink always felt decorum and politeness are some stuffy ass shit, but decorum pollutes young white kids and especially colored girls who look on colored boys and think they’re dirty because, well, if the table cloth should be white, then the skin better be clean too. When little chink girls becoming white parrots and playing tea and all that bullshit, a young chink boi thinking, damn, a chink better be white to get along with these people.

Worst off, a chink never see any chink who made themselves a distinctively chink world star. Nah, all the real-well off chinks out there were quiet little FOBs driving mercs living in white neighborhoods, OJ style. Between this kind of chink, a chink’s parents who driving a japanese car living in a slightly mixed neighborhood, and a chink speaking broken chingrish, a young chink inevitably sees the whitewashed chink as the best of chinks. No positive reinforcement in being Chinese. When a chink goes into the chinkese schools on the weekend and all these little girls fucking smacking a chink boi for not being ‘polite’ or whatever, damn, a chink thinks there’s no place for chinks here. You only a chink on the outside, but inside, you can change and become a nice whiteboi.

This finally boils down to how people teach chinks about themselves. At chinkese school, the CCP steps in and hurls streamlined mandarin at every squinty eyed little kid out there regardless of what color their skin is, what accent they speak with at home, the village they’re from. At white school, a chink taught to succeed at math because that’s the kind of shit that’s gonna make him a good worker—on languages, they’re not taught proper expression; they’re taught how to be as polite as possible, how to be civil and communicate as people deem right. Of course at engrish school, a chink learning to fit inside the mold, so a chink’s open and willing to listen and parrot. What happens is that at chinkese school, a chink learns to a chink hating chinks, while at engrish school, a chink starts hating whites.

How a chink supposed to deal with this then? A chink gotta find a new lane of language. For me, it was rap music. A chink don’t wanna speak that broken chingrish, don’t want speak proper English, so a chink speaks New English. That New English shit isn’t about you and your grammar and your comfort. New English shit is about fucking with your language. New English shit is about stretching out the balls of your language till they burst and on comes a new wave of fertility. New English shit is about busting the ways you think YOU supposed to communicate, the ways you think WE supposed to communicate. You know you understand New English shit. Shit, you’ve been writing it since John Milton. You’ve been writing it since Shakespeare. You been writing that shit since Wordsworth. You been writing that shit since Eliot. Since Pound. Since Ashbury. Since RAKIM.[5]  You just call this vernacular. You just call this different dialects. You call it ‘code-switching.’ Well, a chink gonna tell you what this New English Shit is about at the root.

It isn’t about trying to speak like the people. It isn’t about trying to capture the beauty. It isn’t about trying to communicate with you effectively. It’s about provoking a visceral reaction from your duck fat or vegan fuck fed stomach. It’s about making you feel queasy because you can speak the normal language of your people because you’re allowed to speak the language you grew up with. Some of us are separated from our cultures. Chinks separate themselves from their own culture. This what give YOU entitlement. This what makes chinks do the segregating, the oppressing, the raping, for you on us. So, why a chink gotta reject whites? You no longer a chink. You let them control and you can’t even hold them accountable. You not thinking two steps ahead on how to avoid conflict. You straight up thinking two steps ahead for them because you already one of them but you still a chink. This is why a chink needs to reclaim his culture, his name. This is why a chink need to reject white.



[1] Maybe it’s a woman. Maybe it’s lady liberty. Maybe it’s a pun on the Chinese name for lady liberty 自由女神. Maybe a chink is a mysoginist. Amy Tan sure thinks so. Maybe I’m angry that I was lulled into the trap of someone promising something and giving something else. Maybe I’m mad that I contracted mental VD from this exchange. Maybe I was the one who had their orality taken advantage of. Maybe someone else was shoving something down my oral cavity without my full consent.
[2] Only person that kid gonna kowtow to is me. Lol. And the parents. (obvs)
[3] Sure this sounds paranoid as fuck, but this the truth. This is probably why I never truly feel that connected to teachers or coworkers or bosses and why most of my close friends are not blanco.
[4] When a chink sees a white person on top of him, a chink betrays himself. With people who a chink don’t feel any inferiority to, a chink doesn’t give them shit and doesn’t acknowledge him. This is probably one of the bigger hypocrisies a chink works with. Can’t be a brash independent chink if he cowers to people.
[5] since desiigner