A young cotton picker at the Kern County migrant camp in California, November 1936.

Cotton picker, Southern San Joaquin Valley, California

The flame from the lantern danced around the wooden ceiling of the shack while the neighbors gathered around to hear the story of his encounter with El Chupacabra. 

The children eagerly whispered amongst each other as they sat cross-legged on the ground, anticipation momentarily distracting them from their empty stomachs. It seemed that their parents were doing too good of a job assuaging the children’s fears, for if they turned around and looked at the worried faces of the adults lining the perimeter of the room, they might realize the danger lurking outside.

Juan would have to take care of that himself. With a resigned sigh, he stood up on a small apple crate they were using as a makeshift podium, and the room fell silent as all eyes looked towards him.

“God said the Devil would come to man under the guise of a cloven-footed beast. There have been tales of goats standing on hind legs so they could look man in the eye.” Juan took a shaky breath before asking, “But what was it we found in the field lying dead next to Maria?”

“A goat,” someone whispered.

He nodded severely, repeating, “A goat.”

His voice felt loud in the confined space, and he felt perspiration at his brow from the heat of all the bodies warming the room. He wasn’t used to having this much attention on him. In fact, this might have been the first time someone cared what he had to say in years. It felt good to have his community hanging off of his every word, so he pushed down his discomfort and continued his story. “Those who have claimed God was speaking of a goat were fools lucky enough to have never known true evil. They are just servants, there to do Evil’s bidding.”

Our pledge states that we are a democratic society, “regardless of race, language, or religion”, but the amount of microagressions and casual racism our minorities face on a daily basis is so mind boggling that most people prefer to just close their eyes to it rather than try to fix the problem.

Given the state of the world, and the news stories we read, I would expect more from my countrymen.

Recently, a nationwide advertisement was released, with a Chinese man dressed up in a headscarf to portray a Muslim woman, and his face painted brown to portray an Indian man. This ad managed to go through levels of approval, and not one person during that process, from conceptualization to actualization across the entire country, saw anything wrong in it.

When the public eventually pointed out how offensive that was, an apology was issued, the ad was taken down, and we were all supposed to be satisfied with that.

Two local entertainers, not satisfied with that level of response, created a video, parodying Iggy Azalea’s Fuck It Up. This wasn’t the first time ‘brownface’ had been called out in our country, someone, somewhere along the line, surely must have known that this wasn’t okay.

The response to that video?

A police investigation was launched. Not against the creators of the initial ad, but against the video.

My country’s law minister issued a statement saying a line had been crossed, and that the video “ insults Chinese Singaporeans, uses four-letter words on Chinese Singaporeans” (note: the lyrics of the parody song state “(racist) Chinese people out here fucking things up”. Not once does the phrase “fuck Chinese people” ever occur).

This is an offence, while the ad was a mistake, because apparently this video shows a “deliberate intent to wound the religious or racial feelings of any person“, which is against the law.

Multiple other government officials, notably all from minority races, have continued to condemn the video.

No such condemnation was made when the ad was aired, when the apology was made, when the ad was pulled.

The issue goes further than just the disparity in response to these two incidents though.

Subhas, the rapper in the video, had worked with migrant workers in Singapore, to create a song titled Utopia, highlighting their struggles in the country. It was to be part of a documentary by Channel News Asia, in celebration of Singapore’s National Day on the 9th of August.

After the announcement of this police investigation, Subhas’ section of the documentary was pulled - along with the work of the migrant workers. Their story is no longer going to be told, because someone somewhere has decided that this perceived attack on all Chinese Singaporeans is unlawful.

I’d love to say I come from a multicultural country, where I feel safe as a minority, where I know my voice will be heard. But that would be a lie.

Instead, I have to now say I come from a country where I am expected to be tolerant of other peoples mistakes, I am expected to be responsible for educating others on how not to be offensive, and I am expected to file a police report when I am offended, but also to not be surprised when the authorities tell me that “no laws have been broken”.

I come from a country where it’s safe to walk home alone at 3 in the morning, but only if I’m willing to hear people make casual racist remarks and generalizations, and not get offended when I’m told to “learn how to take a joke” and “not take things so seriously”.

I come from a country where I have to watch my words, but silently acquiesce to offensive things said to me.

I come from a country that is young, is struggling to grow up, but thinks it has a long tradition and culture to uphold, that thinks it knows better.

I come from a country that is no better than the young people I work with on a daily basis, and I’m struggling to hold on to the belief that like my students, my country has potential, and will eventually shine.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-49205225

M&TC: MCM Eduardo Garcia owner & chef of Máximo Bistrot

“We started Máximo Bistrot in 2011 with four employees. The idea was to keep things small. But then I noticed, after a while, that employees were building homes. A lot of them were Mexicans who had migrated to the United States and then sent money back home to construct houses. With the wages we paid, they could stay in Mexico and earn enough to have a good life. So we decided finally it was a good idea to grow the business and employ as many people as possible, because in Mexico a lot of people’s pockets get bigger and bigger, but never the little guy.

A young Mexican farm worker plays guitar and sings in a Coachella Valley labor camp. California, 1935. - photo by Dorothea Lange