Most respectable, kind, decent people want to occasionally break out of their goody two shoes and be bad. We all have our guilty pleasures. Naughty lingerie under prim and proper office clothes, a basement dungeon within a house with a white picket fence, a secret porn site… what’s yours? What makes you feel like a baddie?
This Valentine’s Day, I wish you someone you can share the best of you with, who lets you act out your worst, and who accepts you for the disgusting pig that you are. 😘
Love, Lust, & Liberty,
Happy New Year! 2019 is the Chinese Year of the Pig. Do you know which of the 12 zodiac animals you belong to? Check the wheel below for the animal that corresponds to your birth year. It gets tricky if you were born on the month of January. Since the Chinese go by the Lunar Calendar, the earlier part of January goes under the previous year’s sign. If you were born during the latter half of January, here’s a Chinese Animal Zodiac Sign Calculator to find out exactly what your sign is.
In the spirit of fun and festivities, let me give you my Love & Sex predictions for each Chinese Zodiac sign. In general, the Year of the Earth Pig promises to be a year of social interactions. Keep reading to find out what that means for your love and sex life.
Chinese Zodiac Love & Sex Prediction
Rat: 1924, 1936, 1948, 1960, 1972, 1984, 1996, 2008, 2020
You are magnetic this year. Potential fuck partners will be crawling out of the woodwork to get with you. Always keep yourself clean and groomed so you’re ready for action anytime anywhere. Flings, one-night stands, casual hookups, and yes, even the chance of love abound. Be clear about what you want, because you’ll have plenty of options.
Most compatible signs: Ox is that strong sexy complement to your personality. Dragon and you have a lot in common. Monkey makes you so giddy happy.
Least compatible: Don’t hitch your wagon on Horse. Nothing you do will ever be good enough. Goat just wants your money. Rabbit can’t help but do the opposite of what you want. Beware!
Ox: 1925, 1937, 1949, 1961, 1973, 1985, 1997, 2009, 2021
If you are already in a relationship, it will deepen and become stronger this year. If you are single, you are likely to find a fuck buddy. Either way, communication is key. Don’t be so stubborn. Take turns listening and speaking. Giving and receiving head. You may find yourself alone by year’s end. Fine, if that’s what you want. If not, remember that communication is a two-way street.
Most compatible signs: Rat balances your rigid personality. Snake is romantic and supportive of your work. Rooster will love you with loyalty.
Least compatible: You will clash with Goat. Horse has too much of a free spirit to take you seriously. You have nothing in common with Dog. Don’t waste your time.
Tiger: 1926, 1938, 1950, 1962, 1974, 1986, 1998, 2010, 2022
If you are already in a solid relationship, you are getting in deeper with your lover this year. If you are still looking, hang back and enjoy friends with benefits. Strengthen your friendships and the benefits. Get to know each other more. Uncover hidden kinks and see if they fit. Don’t try to force a relationship too soon.
Most compatible signs: Pig may be your opposite but you can really be yourselves with each other. Horse is irresistible to you. Dog brings out your gentle side.
Least compatible: Monkey and you will always argue. A relationship with Snake will be full of suspicions and coldness. Stay away.
Rabbit: 1927, 1939, 1951, 1963, 1975, 1987, 1999, 2011, 2023
This year will be a challenge for you. If you are already in a relationship, you need to work on your communication. If you are single, you will meet plenty of people but not The One. If only you could mix and match parts of them to make up the ideal partner. Polyamory is a good solution. You can increase your luck in attracting mates by already having an awesome mate by your side. Triple luck points by letting men give you a pearl necklace.
Most compatible: Dog will be happy to live a peaceful life with you. Pig and you have a lot in common. Goat needs you and you love taking care of that horny Goat.
Least compatible: Rooster and you will argue about the littlest things. Dragon and you may seem like you have a lot in common but alas, you two clash. Rat is tricky, too, because it will take time before differences between you will appear and by then, it will be impossible to agree on anything.
Dragon: 1928, 1940, 1952, 1964, 1976, 1988, 2000, 2012, 2024
Year of the Pig is a “Peach Blossom” Year for Dragons searching for The One. You will be lucky in love and excitement. You will have your pick from an abundance of Dragon-loving prospects. Know which of your prospects is for long-term and which ones are only casual flings. Don’t get it twisted. Be clear with your communication. Let that fire ignite your loins; don’t let it get in your head. Green rectangular jewelry increases your luck in love. Black accessories makes your sexual power more irresistible.
Most compatible: Rooster worships you and will do anything for you. Monkey and you are a creative explosion together, just watch out for Monkey’s tricks. Rat’s humor and reliability attracts your stubborn nature.
Least compatible: You and Dog can’t understand or trust each other. Rabbit and you have similarities, but you can only tolerate each other to a certain point. You also clash with other Dragons. There can only be one!
Snake: 1941, 1953, 1965, 1977, 1989, 2001, 2013, 2025
Don’t expect a whirlwind romance this year. You will be underwhelmed at best. There! Take a deep sigh of relief. You can now be completely honest in your interactions, since you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Learn what you can from your experiences, your desires, your preferences. Your mind and your hands will be your best lover this year. Get yourself some sex toys and explore!
Most compatible: Monkey and you have similarities. You admire Rooster’s good taste and ability to avoid getting eaten up by you. Ox grounds you and is a reliable anchor.
Least compatible: Tiger is too suspicious and cold. Pig will tolerate you, but can’t trust you. I mean, you’re a Snake! And admittedly, Pig is good eatin’!
Horse: 1942, 1954, 1966, 1978, 1990, 2002, 2014, 2026
Excitement, passion, good times! This is what’s in store for you this year. Make your move when someone catches your eye. If you are in a relationship, level up by exposing a secret sexual curiosity you’ve always wanted to try. It’s time for a new adventure!
Most compatible: Goat’s tenderness will make you feel content. Tiger will try hard to win you. Dog will be your loyal partner.
Least compatible: Rat will clash with you. Save yourselves the pain. Ox will be difficult to communicate with. Other Horses are great to work with but too similar to be compatible in love.
Goat: 1943, 1955, 1967, 1979, 1991, 2003, 2015, 2027
The first half of the year will be a romantic time for you. Bank on unforgettable memories with your love because, darling, your moodiness during the second part of the year can wear down even the most patient of lovers. Give your love thoughtful gifts that inspire some make up sex and all will be smoothed over.
Most compatible: Horse makes up for your shortcomings, and vice versa. Rabbit is dependable. Pig is warm and gentle.
Least compatible: Ox and you can be so stubborn and uncompromising. Rat and you easily misunderstand each other. Dog and you have very few things in common.
Monkey: 1932, 1944, 1956, 1968, 1980, 1992, 2004, 2016
This is the year you will fall in love. The partners most likely to be worth your affection are already in your social circle. Keep your eyes open for clues. If you are already in a relationship, reignite your passion with some dirty talk. Let those sweet and nasty words inspire some naughty action.
Most compatible: Snake is either your hottest lover or your coldest foe. Rat cheers you up like no other. Dragon inspires you.
Least compatible: Tiger will fight you constantly. Pig doesn’t have the same interests and life goals as you.
Rooster: 1933, 1945, 1957, 1969, 1981, 1993, 2005, 2017
Love at first sight will happen for you this year. Don’t bury your head in work and risk missing out. Show off your best talents and physical features to attract what you want. If you are in a relationship, watch that temper and avoid petty squabbles. Once you’re locked into a hot fuck fest you’ll realize how none of that mattered in the first place.
Most compatible: Dragon’s accomplishments make you proud and you love to boost from behind. Snake gets you, your life and dreams. Ox is honest and a steady partner.
Least compatible: Rabbit has contrasting opinions that clash with yours. Dog and you can tolerate each other but it’s always tense. Who wants to live with all that tension? Other Roosters fight with you often and can’t compromise. Don’t get caught in a constant cockfight.
Dog: 1934, 1946, 1958, 1970, 1982, 1994, 2006, 2018
Go out and sniff around for what you want. You will be impressed by what you find. Look and smell your best at all times. Your most favorable love interests are already in your social circles. Express how you feel toward them. If you are already in a relationship, now is the time to take things where you want it to go. Fortune favors the bold.
Most compatible: Rabbit is kind and supportive. Tiger is reassuring and needs your loyalty. Horse understands and respects you.
Least compatible: Dragon and you are distrustful of one another. You will have intense arguments with each other. Ox and you have dissimilar interests. Goat and you tolerate each other, but that’s it.
Pig: 1935, 1947, 1959, 1971, 1983, 1995, 2007, 2019
I’m sorry, Piggy, this year may be your year, but true love will prove to be elusive for you. Not to say that this year won’t be fun, though. There will be many exciting moments without the relationship drama if you focus on making connections and friends with benefits. Extend your network. Don’t jump into a relationship prematurely. If you are already in a relationship, communication is key to keeping it. Actively listen and express your feelings. Don’t let resentment build up.
Most compatible: Tiger is brave and makes you feel secure. Rabbit wants to snuggle up and bask in your intelligence. You have a lot of common interests with Goat.
Least compatible: Snake will eat you alive. A relationship with Monkey will be full of tension.
Was my prediction for your zodiac sign helpful? Let me know in the comments what your sign is and what your love & sex game plan is going to be on this Year of the Earth Pig. Blessings to you for the New Year! Good luck! Don’t fuck it up. 💋
Love, Lust, & Liberty,
My daddy forbade me to get naked for a college play. He didn’t realize it was not his call to make. I was eighteen. I could make my own decisions about my body.
I had just finished a run of my first professional theatre gig. “By George!” was a musical revue of George Gershwin starring Dulce and directed by Behn Cervantes. I was a wispy little chorus girl, but I had a solo part after Michelle Gallaga in the song, “I Got Rhythm.” It was a showstopper!
Throughout the run and for weeks after it, I hung out with Dulaang UP kids. Even though I went to Ateneo, I auditioned for a part in the play “Fili,” adapted by Floy Quintos from Jose Rizal’s “El Filibusterismo.” Director Tony Mabesa must have been amused by my novelty because he cast me in a big part, the role of Kontessa, the Kapitan-Heneral’s whore.
Sisa was Eugene Domingo, who had briefly changed her name to Geena Domingo to assume a more dramatic persona. She was a student then, not the big comedy star she is now. The big star of the show was film director Mario O’Hara as the protagonist Simoun.
Rehearsals were exciting. I was getting a master class in theatre performance from the best in the Philippines. I tried my best to keep up when we read through the entire script. I was in one big scene with chunky monologues and several lines back and forth with the Kapitan-Heneral. I was off-book and ready when it was time to get the scene up on its feet.
Sir Tony had me enter with a lit candelabra in each hand. I recited my lines, projected my voice as big as I could make it. My scene partner, the Kapitan-Heneral, was played by a flamboyant opera singer. I couldn’t let my voice drown alongside his. At center stage I was directed to hand the candelabras to the Kapitan-Heneral, kneel in front of him with my back to the audience, and undress.
Sir Tony was serious. I would be getting naked onstage.
My heart raced. My face heated up. I felt small. Literally. I had no tits. I was very self-conscious about it. We weren’t even onstage at the time. We were in a rehearsal room with unforgiving flat fluorescent lighting. I sheepishly removed my street clothes and returned to my spot center stage. The Kapitan-Heneral looked down at me. He was enormous.
“Drip wax on her,” Sir Tony directed from behind a desk. The stage manager sat next to him coldly taking notes on her script.
I continued my lines, gasping every time hot wax hit my bare skin. I felt all eyes on me. Cast and crew held their collective breath as a virgin had her first taste of Dominance and submission. Public humiliation. I didn’t know any of them and none of them knew me. I was an outsider. Just a doe-eyed girl from Ateneo who thought she could run with the cool kids at UP. I felt so alone.
As the scene drew to a climactic end, Sir Tony said, “This is where you have an orgasm.”
“What’s an orgasm?” I asked.
Sir Tony laughed a big booming laugh that echoed throughout the rehearsal hall and in the back of my head for years to come.
“You poor girl.”
Sir Tony took out a cigarette and stood up. The stage manager called a break.
We worked the scene in the succeeding rehearsals. I grew in confidence each time we ran it. I was determined to conquer this role. Eventually, though, Sir Tony decided to get someone else to play Kontessa, a woman named Grace, who rumor had it was a Muslim princess. She was a grown woman with full breasts and dark hair down to her ankles. She fit the part more than I did. She knew how to have an orgasm.
I’m trying to imagine my 18-year-old self as the Kontessa. Not yet five feet tall, a tit-less waif. I would have been the child prostitute version, which is not without a visceral power of its own.
I was demoted to the part of a common whore. I wore a blonde wig and a big poofy dress. I had a couple of lines and got to kiss Sir Mario O’Hara at the beginning of the play.
I got asked out on dates a lot during the run of the play. Maybe I was fresh meat from Ateneo. Maybe it was the challenge of giving me my first orgasm. Maybe that very first wax dripping scene rehearsal played in their imaginations more often than they could bear it. More than my naked body on display, I like to think it was my innocence, vulnerability, and courage that captivated them that day.
This is an excerpt from the memoir I am currently writing. I am so proud that I got to work with Sir Tony Mabesa, who recently won the MMFF award for Best Supporting Actor in the movie Rainbow’s Sunset. Salute to Dr. Jose Rizal. Mabuhay!
Love, Lust, & Liberty,
I went to an all-girls nun-run Catholic high school in the Philippines, very strict and narrow-minded. I was a good student but something as trivial as my asymmetric hairstyle got their granny panties in a bunch. What made high school life worth living was Gina. She and I connected on an artistic and literary level. She was a huge The Cure fan, so I drew her a portrait of Robert Smith. She wrote me a fantasy article for Town & Country magazine, in which I am a fabulous art curator and married to Johnny Depp. We talked endlessly about ideas for stories we wanted to write someday and we talked about sex. Sure, we had no experience whatsoever, but we were teenagers. Sex was an obsession.
In college she went to UP and I went to Ateneo. She partied hard with her sorority sisters. I got sucked into music and theatre. She invited me to an Upsilon event once. I felt out of place. Our paths divided for the time being.
She tracked me down in the mid-90s when I was in New York. I was performing Off and Off-Off-Broadway. She was a young single mom, making it as a writer and editor in Manila. She found out I made my own body products so she asked me to write an article for her fledgling magazine, Earthian. It was granola and green long before it was a thing. I accepted. It was my first published piece.
In the mid-2000s she discovered an obscure anonymous blog I was writing about my pregnancy and home birth. She asked if she could publish it on Working Mom magazine. How could I say no to celebrating my infant’s birth on the pages of a glossy magazine? Gina made me feel like royalty or at least like a celebrity.
When she found out about my porn, she stayed on my side all the way. She defended me against attacks behind my back from people we went to high school with and if you knew her, you’d know she unleashed a fury on anyone who crossed her or her loved ones. I flew to San Diego to catch up with her when she visited in 2010. We were regulars at her pub, Fred’s Revolucion in Cubao X in 2012. A few years later, she and her family were guests in our old farmhouse in Maine. We shared stories, beer, and laughter indoors while our kids ages 11 and 12 built a bonfire in the backyard because that’s the kind of parents we were and that’s the kind of kickass kids we raised.
She roped me in to write for Agam, the book of photos by her husband, photojournalist Jose Enrique Soriano. As executive editor, she included me among 24 contributing writers – accomplished poets, journalists, anthropologists, scientists, and artists from the Philippines. I felt like the black sheep among those luminaries, but Gina was my champion. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She autographed my copy of the book: Will always be your friend, fan, and supporter – living vicariously through your groundbreaking work. Love you.
Tuesday night I got a message from her husband. Gina was in a coma in St. Luke’s ER. No one saw it coming. He asked for prayers. When an atheist asks an agnostic to pray for a Catholic, you know it’s serious. I prayed. I used all my mental energy to summon her back. “Come back, Gina,” I commented on a recent Facebook post in which she had tagged me. Come back, Gina, I thought constantly day and night. Come back to us. Thursday around 5 in the morning I woke up with a cramp in my chest. It pinched everytime I breathed. My heart literally hurt. I messaged her husband, “Tell me something, anything.”
“She loved you and we were looking forward to visiting again.”
I had a difficult loud ugly cry by myself until Jay came out of his studio and held me and we cried together. I am so glad he got to know her. I’m glad I have somebody to grieve with and celebrate her life with.
Gina recently posted a fabulous profile picture across all her social media channels and even more fabulous photos of her and her kids at a kiki ball. Just last weekend her kids thanked her for giving them “a rich uncommon childhood.” She said she won the “lotto of life.” Her latest piece, my favorite yet, the crass and soulful Patricio, was published online on Esquire posthumously. I joked to Jay that it was a memorial-worthy social media presence, one to aspire to. He asked me not to die until my profile pictures got really old and ugly.
I got out a bottle of beer from the fridge, spilled some in her honor, and drank to my friend. Gina had a sharp wit and a fiery nature. She was a fierce mother and a fierce friend. She burned brilliantly, my friend for life. Gina burned fast, but she burned exceptionally bright.
I’ve been fostering a pregnant cat that some heartless people abandoned at the shelter. She’s a scared little thing, so confused about what’s happening to her body and untrusting of any human. I don’t blame her. You fuck real good once and you’re in trouble forever. Can you imagine being kicked out of your home just when you need one the most? She’s been under the couch most of the time. Once in a while I coax her out with kitty treats. She gently takes it from the tip of my fingers with her tiny teeth. So cute!
Lately she started lounging out in the open, but darted back under the couch as soon as anyone moved. On Autumn Equinox this weekend she spent the entire day and night under the couch. Around ten o’clock, while I was troubleshooting the Raspberry Pi I set up, I heard peeps from under the couch. Kittens!
She came out later, her crotch wet so I knew for sure she had given birth. Kitty Mama cleaned herself, drank and ate a lot, then relaxed on her bed. I took the opportunity to take a peek under the couch. One tiny baby kitten.
I stayed up late with my Kitty Mama, rubbing her body and telling her she did good. She was so hungry for affection, the sweet thing. Before going to bed, I peeked at the baby again. It wasn’t moving. I got scared. What if it’s dead? I reached out and touched it. It squeaked. It was warm. I was relieved, but only slightly. What if the Mama rejects it now that I’d touched it? I dream worried dreams now. A little lifeless kitten, kittens running amok, my rat terrier getting in through the French doors and eating the little kitten. Moms… Moms worry.
Prior to this I’d been having frustrating dreams. Dreams that ended before they began. I dreamed about my first lover. The first boy I ever fell in love with growing up in the Philippines. We were hanging out with other people, not speaking to each other, just there, trying to keep it cool but wanting so badly to reach out and touch him. Finally we were alone but before we could say one thing the dream was over. I was awake. What a cruel trick awakening is!
Another time I dreamed about my high school best friend and me walking by a beach in the Philippines with a couple of boys I don’t believe I’ve met in real life. She ripped her clothes off and jumped in the water. The boys undressed and followed. I fumbled for the buttons on my shirt. I wanted to go skinny dipping, too, but the buttons seemed to take forever to undo. I woke up before I could get my shirt off.
I have someone who tells me constantly that he dreams about me. He says he wakes up hard as a rock and has to get himself off in the bathroom.
What about you? What do you dream about?
Everyone’s sad summer is ending.
— May Ling Su (@maylingsu) September 1, 2018
It’s 20 days till my birthday and those of you who’ve known me for at least over a year know what that means. Every year on my birthday I take a nude photo to celebrate being born naked, yes, but also it’s a record of how my body has changed through the years. This year will be my 19th annual birthday nude. 19!!! Some of you weren’t even born yet when I started taking these nudes.
If you want to send me a present (I love presents!) I’m going to add items to my wishlist on Amazon daily to give you an idea of what makes me smile. The presents I added today have something to do with this little anecdote I’m about to share with you, so go take a peek at my wishlist, then come back for the rest of this post.
Did you see it? Alright, here goes…
I was driving a long winding road in the White Mountains and singing along to The Breeders – All Nerve turned up really loud.
I won’t stop! I will run you down!
Suddenly a red fox crossed the road right in front of me, waving its pretty white tail. My heart slowed, then sped up, then pounded hard. The fox stopped to look back at me before it disappeared into the woods past the other side of the road, oblivious to how awestruck I was by its wild beauty.
My giddiness ended abruptly when I saw police lights in my rearview mirror. Shit. I turned The Breeders down. I stopped, reached for my registration out of the glove compartment, my license out of my purse. The cop was at my window faster than I expected him to be.
“Hi, officer! Did you see that fox?” I handed him my documents.
“Yeah!” He smiled, looked over my license and registration. He looked pretty good himself. Young country cop, sexy navy blue uniform, bright ginger hair.
“I’ve never seen a fox in broad daylight before,” I kept talking, spread my legs nonchalantly, gave the cop a view of my smooth creamy thighs, black lacy panties peeking out of a black miniskirt printed with little yellow sunflowers. “Have you, officer?” I looked up at him expectantly.
He grinned. “No, not like this one.”
There was nothing on either side of the road but forests. There wasn’t a house for miles. I felt vulnerable, excited, scared. I think he did, too. He didn’t look like the type of cop who would routinely abuse his power. He seemed like a model citizen, with his high school sweetheart wife and 2.5 kids, a house with a white picket fence. The kind of guy who goes to his small town church on Sundays. Also the kind of guy who may not get a chance to act out his basest fantasies, ever, much less with an experienced woman of exotic origin.
I wondered what it would be like to suck his cock. Was it pink like his cheeks? Was he waiting for me to make a bolder move? Or would I scare him the way a bold move may scare a wild animal? How would he react to fear? Is it worth it to find out?
His gun sat silently in its holster.
“Slow down on these roads a bit, okay?” He handed my documents back and was gone as quickly as he showed up at my car window.
Sometimes life only gives us a chance to connect in the briefest of moments. In big cities we brush up against so many people, overwhelm our senses with music and food and media, and grow numb. Out there on a lonely road in the middle of the woods, my nerves tingled.
Uncle Tim came home with a dead deer in the back of his truck. There was already one hanging upside down in his barn, but it was his brother’s. Uncle Tim is the man when it comes to field dressing deer. I remember a few Thanksgivings back when he bagged a hermaphrodite deer. He called it “queer deer” (pronounced kwee’ yah dee’ yah around these parts). I took photos, asked questions, no judgement. Uncle Tim seemed to enjoy my company. He entertained my questions and didn’t mind me taking pictures. I’d been in the family a long time but I know I’ll always be foreign to him.
A 14-year-old niece asked my advice on modeling, photography, and how to get her swollen lip to go down. She had gotten a piercing above the left side of her lip. Last summer she also asked my advice on eyebrow issues; first when she had shaved them off, drawn them on with a pencil, and given her face a surprised look; then when she had drawn them so thick they looked sharpied on. She may have found a happy medium with the eyebrows since then. Or maybe I didn’t notice on account of her fat lip.
“I brought my homemade mini pumpkin pies. Gluten-free!” I offered her. I made a batch every year.
“Oh my god, I love you!” She hugged me as she stuffed one in her mouth.
16-year-old Dylan also came up for a hug. He had grown from a chubby boy with Freddie Mercury teeth to a young man with short blonde hair, braces, and a hot bod! Call me a perv, but his good looks are not lost on me. The hug felt good. I walked right into his arms. He wrapped them around my back and squeezed.
“Auntie May, would you like to see my football videos?” he asked.
I glanced at his mother, an overweight blonde woman a few years younger than me but looking haggard. She sat on the other side of the room, clutching at her yappy little pomeranian, while she sobbed about her dog that died last summer. Her pomeranian upchucked a piece of turkey right onto one of the guests. A ruckus of cleaning up and apologies ensued.
“Sure!” I sat on the couch next to him as he pulled up junior varsity football game videos on his laptop. I became self-conscious of my minidress being a tad too short. His fingers tapped on his muscled thighs, dangerously close to mine. We watched his videos together. I heaped praise on his moves and watched him blush.
I’m aware of my “sexy aunt” status. Being asian and married to a white man makes me an “other” in his family; a hot exotic creature they can fix their fantasies on without feeling incestuous. I kinda like it. It feels good to be desired. And when I’m alone with my man I tell him I’m going to hire Dylan to mow our lawn this summer. I’m going to watch him peel his sweaty shirt off as he pushes the lawnmower around our backyard. I tell him I’m going out in a sheer little sundress, no bra, no panties, to bring the boy an ice cold lemonade. I whisper all the many naughty things I’m going to do. Whether I actually do it or not is beside the point. It makes my man hard to hear about it. It’s our connection together on a fantasy so immediate and so naughty that matters.
Did you have a sexy aunt when you were growing up? What fantasies did you have of her? Tell Auntie May all about it.
Have you seen this?
A white woman yelled “Go back to China!” at an asian man on the street. He turned around and yelled back at her, “I was born in America!” The asian man happens to be New York Times deputy Metro editor, Michael Luo, who then wrote an open letter to the offending woman. He also started a twitter conversation about Asian-Americans’ experience of racism, #thisis2016.
Most of it sounds like petty playground taunting. The fact that an asian man can confront his abuser and write about it later on the New York Times shows he has power. Had it been a black man doing the same thing, he would have been shot dead on the sidewalk before he even opened his mouth. Had it been a Muslim doing the same thing, s/he would have been labeled a terrorist and taken away, never to be seen on the face of the earth. I’m exaggerating, of course, but not by much and you know it.
I do have a problem with people assuming “victim” status. I’m not talking about real assault here. I’m talking about words thrown about carelessly on one hand, and hypersensitivity to certain keywords on the other. On the playground, if you let a bully see your weakness, the bully wins. Remember, the best defense is offensive. Here are a few suggestions for snappy come-backs to racist comments:
- People talk “ching chang chong” around you? Don’t act all hurt. “Ching chang chong” back at them. Incessantly, like you’re their new best friend. “You-me-ha-ha!” I’m pretty sure it’ll weird them out enough to stop, or if they have a sense of humor they’ll actually laugh at you and themselves and the whole situation in general.
- Someone call you Bruce Lee? Say thanks, it’s an honor. The man is a god! Then whip out some karate chops. You don’t know karate? Just make shit up. Racists are stupid. They won’t know the difference.
- Someone tell you your English is perfect? Say, “Thanks! Yours needs work.”
- Someone ask about your slanted vagina? Say, “Yes, and I’m another slanted vagina you’ll never get to fuck.”
- Someone tell you to go make chinese food? Take their money to go.
- Someone wants to kick your butt back to China? Kick their butt back to Ireland. Not from Ireland? Who cares? I’m not from China!
See what I’m getting at? Asians can out-racist the racists. We’ve had plenty of experience. East Asians think they’re better than South and South-East Asians. Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans don’t like each other either. Singaporeans and Hong Kong Chinese hate Filipinos.
If there is anything #thisis2016 has shown me, it’s that Asian Americans are racist against Asian-Asians. They’re saying, “How dare you lump me in with immigrants and international students who don’t speak English well or at all! How dare you compare me to low life sex workers, maids, nurses, delivery boys, cooks… I’m better than them! I’m American!!!”
I’m a naturalized American citizen originally from the Philippines. I’m a college graduate and my American English is impeccable. But you know what? I put on a mock Asian accent and race play with white men. Why? Because it’s naughty. Because I like Asians, yes, including the whores, the maids, the nurses, the delivery boys, the cooks… I am them and they are me. Because calling myself racist slurs does not threaten my racial dignity any more than being a sexual submissive threatens my feminism.
How does your hard white cock feel about that? Love me long time, Joe?