Desi Manifesto Blog: The Forum for South Asian American Men

We’ve run it by other minorities, and they agree. We’ve run it by our white friends, and they will come up with any reason to act like it doesn’t exist. I guess they don’t want the cognitive dissonance of knowing that there are determinations made based on race and that they have an advantage in some regards, even though they don’t think of themselves as racially anything.

Read the ugly truth and see for yourself.

Sonny: btw

my friend’s fiancé

agreed with our theory 100%

every single guy in there

was like “dude you’re full of shit, stop making excuses”

so i said

“ok fine, let’s get the girls’ opinions”

[Blogger: S.I.] The last couple months, I’ve been making a concerted effort to get out of the house and away from work, meet people, and socialize. Getting to know some of the people of LA. On the whole, it’s gone quite well, I’ve made some new friends, contacts, etc.

But one part of the social milieu that’s often overlooked by most Westerners can in fact be a make-or-break point for people like us: the introduction.

Our hero, S.I., and Random Girl have been speaking for a few minutes. Amiable conversation.

S.I.: “Hey, what’s your name, by the way?”

Random Girl: “It’s Random Girl.”

S.I.: “Nice to meet you Random Girl. I’m (insert my easy-to-say Indian name here. Not the easiest ever, but definitely on the easy side).

Random Girl: “Uh…”

He watches in horror as her expression contorts into the “Foreign Face.” Her eyes crinkle, her upper lip sneers, her teeth show, her brows furrow, and her tongue is at the ready, should it need to roll, flip, or click.

[Blogger: S.I.] We’ve been delinquent. It’s a very busy time in the lives of the Desi Manifesto crew. Of course, if we had more people to blog, there wouldn’t be lag like this, would there? I put the blame squarely on you.

In the last few weeks, I’ve encountered snippets of race-related situations, and even I had a lot of trouble deciding whether I considered them racist or not. So I throw them out to you for some feedback.

LASIK AND EYE OPENING COMMENTS

I recently got LASIK performed at a prominent clinic in LA. Highly ranked doctors, technicians, etc. A few days before the procedure, I underwent an extremely detailed eye exam, including dilating of the pupils.

As the tech tilted my head back to instill the drops, she noticed how easy it was. She said: “Oh, you have such big eyes, it’s so easy to put in the drops. You’re not going to have a problem at all. Not like our Asian patients with those tiny eyes.”

“The Love Guru” flopped last weekend, assuming the “downward spiraling dog” pose, and this coming weekend’s box office receipts should shut the lid on that coffin. Well done.

This monumental failure dredged up memories of my encounter a few years ago with a real life love guru, and the hilarity that ensued. No, he wasn’t about “love” directly, but he proffered all the intangible accoutrements of spirituality.

Fake? Hack? Snake oil salesman? Charlatan? Scam artist?

No no, please call him Maha Rishi.

Personally, I’ve always felt (and gotten the vibe from East Asians and East Asian Americans) that Indians and Asians are indeed two separate groups. The concept of Asia is just what white people drew on a map as “East of Where White People Live”-land, and I don’t feel like abiding by their construct. Beyond our basic looks, our cultures, while vaguely similar, are still quite different, as are the religions and lifestyles.

Reader P’s story of “the burrito”: P is an Indian guy in his early to mid 20s in LA. Works in a corporate-ish building, though his company is relatively relaxed in dress code.

During lunch break, he grabbed some food to go and made his way back to the office. As he rode the elevator up, bag with food in hand, the door opened and another building worker (different company) entered…

“Well she was a white woman probably in her late 30s. I was coming up from the parking garage and the door opened on the ground floor, I was about to step off but then I stopped and realized it was the wrong floor. She got on the elevator, looked at me and smiled, then said: “Let me guess, you’re delivering a burrito?”

Across India and the world, there is more love for basketball than ever. You see it in the public hoops being set up (though they remain few and far between). In the kids’ fashions. The commercials.

And soon, those of you in New Delhi will see some basketball firsthand, as the NBA is coming to India for Basketball Without Borders.

Aside from discovering our own 7-foot Punjabi Yao Ming wandering the countryside (Dalip Singh Rana aka The Great Khali just wasn’t built for bball), this is one way to better our chances of having someone in the NBA someday.

But of greater concern for David Stern and the Association: will this initiative even work?

The other day, my buddy Bala224 (whom you all know by now) sent me an interesting advice column called ‘Dear Prudence’ on Slate.com. In it, Prudie did not live up to her namesake, advising the conflicted young Indian male ‘Curry and French Fries’ to stand up to his parents, who had been ice cold towards the idea of his white girlfriend.Despite her picture frightening me (she looks like a woman who stared at me in horror in West Virginia when I stopped for gas on my way through), I applaud her response. The title of our post, which actually was the title of her post, was a good sign that her advice might be worthwhile. You’ll see she advocates that ‘Curry’ stand up to his parents to support the woman he loves, whether they like it or not.

Bala224 and I dished out our advice on the matter as well, in our typically offensive (but somewhat enlightening) fashion.

Spoiler alert: lots of references to people being genitals, needing genitals, etc.