I’m not Chinese, but what the fuck James Beard?
Why did James Beard and Alice and Martin Provensen think it was okay to fall into the lazy foot steps of stereotyping and demonizing a whole demographic into Fu Manchu? Oh, with a foreward by Mark Bittman no less.
Hey, I like fancy food just as much as the next person–who doesn’t want to eat raspberry and rhubarb together? But why is his estate allowing these outdated racist images to remain in his book? Like, doink, this is not the 1950’s.
Though? I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that it’s most likely due to our narrow-minded and ignorant Orange-American president that it feels like we’ve been set back 60 years so we might as well be in the fifties with all of its backward notions and nostalgia about things that ‘never was’ the way you thought it was.
Don’t call me “man”!
I am worse than a slave.
Why can I wash away
The dirt of others’ clothes
But not the hatred of my heart?
My skin is yellow,
Does my yellow skin color the clothes?
Why do you pay me less
For the same work?
––excerpted from “Chinaman, Laundryman” by Hsi-tseng Tsiang