devils in trinidad

{Sheena}

Almost every day that I’m out in public, I get called out for being Chinese. Sometimes, it’s in an almost observational way, like “Oh, look, a Chinese person,” but other times it’s just a tiny bit harsher than that. Two of the more memorable occasions:

Case #1: Tunapuna Market
Sarah and I are walking around the market trying to familiarize ourselves with it.
“Pssstttt!”
It happens a couple more times before I turn and realize that a homeless man is trying to talk to me through the metal grid wall of the market. I stop, a little puzzled, and before I can even wonder why he wants to get my attention, he yells, “HEY YELLOW! Go back to the field and pick me some cotton!”
Now I’m standing awkwardly in the market thinking, What?! What did I do? Asians picked cotton?? I look at him and he keeps mumbling, so I do the only thing I can and walk away uncomfortably, still processing what just happened.

Case #2: Downtown Arima
The group just got out of work and we’re walking together down a busy street; I happen to be in the front. Some teenage boys are walking towards us, and as they get close to me, one of them leans in close to my face and hisses, “CHINK.” Again, before I can even get a good glimpse at his face he’s already ten feet behind me walking the opposite direction. And again, another moment of disbelief.

For the most part I’m able to shake it of, but the frustration and exasperation hasn’t quite relented, and I’m not looking forward to the day where I’m not able to just make a joke about it or walk away in silence. I understand the history of Chinese immigrants here, I understand that I obviously look like a foreigner, I understand that there’s little I can do about it…but I’m having a hard time accepting this as part of my experience here.