I Should Be Flattered I Got Hit On But. . .

My sister invited me to an art gallery reception last week. It was a interesting show, but mainly I felt a little lost with some of the pieces. I didn’t understand them, but it was a great experience.

While I was there, I posed for a picture with another guest because the photographer noticed us standing near each other. Of course after the picture, the guest introduced himself. Being polite I did too. I’m good at small talk, I didn’t mind.

Until his first question, “Are you Filipino?” I’m not a fan of conversations with strangers when they immediately attempt to guess what my ethnicity is. After a “No,” from me, he soldiers on. “Where are you from?”

Shit, when was the last time I was stuck in this conversation? I hate these because the person will ignorantly continue to ask questions to figure out my ethnicity. Yes, I know I live in the DC Metro area and people here come from all over the world. However, it’s rude to assume that I am not American. I do not speak with an accent unless I’m drunk and sometimes then I speak Southern. Then again, there are American citizens who do speak with an accent.

If you were in an art gallery and you wanted to make small talk with the person next to you, wouldn’t you ask something like, “What do you think of such and such piece of art?” Maybe I’m just weird that I would ask a stranger that.

“Louisiana,” I tell him. He starts to ask me about Louisiana and tells me about his experience attending an LSU football game. Good, I think, I’ve distracted him. I politely nod as he recounts his football game experience (I’m not a football fan). We even talk about the BP oil spill. Unfortunately, he sides with BP.

Meanwhile, my sister who was standing next to me has disappeared. I’m willing her with all of my ESP to come save me.

“So where are you originally from?” Boy, this guy is persistent. I attempt to turn slightly to spot my sister and give her some sort of bat signal.

“Louisiana.” I’m persistent too. Or stubborn if you ask my husband. Maybe he’ll get the message. He looked slightly confused but that didn’t deter him.

“Uh, where are your parents—um, are they Louisianians too?” Damn. Didn’t work.

“Yes, ” I lied. Finally my sister came and saved me! I escaped! I know I shouldn’t have lied. But I wanted to teach him a lesson without being snarky or bitchy.  My parents are Vietnamese immigrants, and I’m first generation Vietnamese-American.

It’s 2010 and I still meet people who assume that I’m not American because I’m not Caucasian. Do African Americans who don’t speak with an accent encounter these situations? I doubt it. How about Hispanics?

Would you have lied?  Should I have just given him the answer he wanted and moved on? How would you handle a situation like this?

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