Racist? Me?

Teh Happiness.

Amazingly speedy recovery from feeling like total shit just last night. Teh miracle that is teh human body. And better still, the OMFG VERY IMPORTANT BRIEFING ON TECHNICAL MOBILIZATION THAT YOU MUST COME FOR...was settled with a phone call.

It's disgusting, at least to me, how the Armed Forces takes a firm grip on your testicles when you turn 18 (for most of us), and doesn't let go till you're wot, 40-ish. Also disgusting is its apparent disregard for your personal welfare and convenience. So someone calls me up and tells me I missed some important briefing, and to go for a make-up today. At Pasir Ris Camp. 7pm. Pasir Ris Camp, and let us for the moment ignore the fact that it's on the utter other end of the island here, is situated in a middle of a desolate area, accessible by a road that winds...and winds...and winds... . You get the idea. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled by this. This morning, I re-lived my schooling days (ah, those schooling days) and sat for fifteen minutes or so testing and discarding excuses aloud. Alright. Call.

Me: "Hello, is the the Mobilization Clerk?"

Poor Unfortunate Soul (PUS): "Yes?"

Me: "Ah, yes, hi. Someone called me yesterday about this Technical Mob. briefing I missed and that I'm supposed to attend a make-up one today? "

PUS: ""

Me: "Uh, yes. Well, a Personal Emergency came up just, you see, and I can't make it. Can I go at some other time instead, or...?" -hopes-

PUS: "Oh it's alright you can just do the Technical Mob, then."

Me: "I mean, it's very important and all, this Personal Emergency, so...uh...wha?"

PUS: "It's alright. You can skip the briefing. Just come for the actual thing."

Me: "...Oh. Well, ok. So, what exactly does the briefing cover anyway? Let me guess, they hand out many sheets of paper, and tell you things you already knew?" (sudden success tends to embolden people)

PUS: "Hehe, well, sort of. You know the SAF."

Me: "Ah, glad to see you're as disillusioned as I am."



Subsequently, we both laugh, he takes down my NRIC, and thatsh abourrit. I quite liked him, actually, and the unfortunate word formed by the acronym I coined for him is...regrettable. Don't worry that he did the wrong thing by encouraging a trend: I'd do the same for all of them. Two and a half years of conscripted service is more than enough to learn how the Army tends to work. I highly respect Mr Lee Kuan Yew - Without him, I firmly believe we wouldn't be half what we are. But with all due said respect, sir, TEH NATIONAL SERVICE. IT IS TEH HORRIBLE.

And yes, this relates to my promises of sharing my opinion of our deer-in-headlights PSC Scholar. You see, prior to this, some other fuckwit raise the very poignant point to a MINISTER in person, I believe, at a public forum, that interracial couples "make my skin crawl". His name, I forget, but he was similarly an undergraduate.

Suddenly, Racism is the Next Big Thing on the Straits Times Forums. Outraged citizens flooded the forum mailbox with letters expressing concern as to the state of said student's skin. Well, not really, but you get the idea. Chua Cheng Zhan could -not- have timed it worse if he'd planned it.

The details of the scandal can very easily be researched simply by Googling "PSC Scholar Racist". Talk about HUGE. You almost feel sorry for the bugger, really. As it is, views floating around on the internet about it, though mostly hostile, also include the almost-obligatory portion of "oh, the poor boy" sympathizers.

Myself? Despisal. Not because of the actual racist comments he made, mind. Allow me the pleasure of elaboration.

You see, I'd consider myself a racist a well. Now, hold the Molotovs. I'm racist against racial stereotypes, which includes that of the Chinese. We're all familiar with the passing mental comments one makes to the self sometimes, no?

-Chinese Male, hair bleached blonde walks past, puffing on his cigarette and spitting profusely, all the while practically shouting into his mobile phone, which has been modified to light up in seven different colours and patterns.

Me: "Fucking Chink Beng."

-Buncha Malay secondary school kids make a HELLA noise at the library, chase each other around, etc.

Me: "Fucking Mats."

-Group of Indian Nationals walk past, in wraparounds and smelling strongly of coconut oil.

Me: "...Indians."

-Caucasian man, eating at the hawker centre.
Me: "Oh forgive me for I am not worthy..." -Kidding.

So, yes, I am racist in that sense. I also have friends from every one of the abovementioned racial groups which I am on cordial terms with. I believe people are people, no matter what race - The issue is very simply that each race has its own particular brand of undesirable behaviour.

I was introduced to the world of racism and the need for political correctness at an early age, really. I was, what, 8?, when the teacher seated me next to an Indian boy, whose behaviour I had no qualms about at all. But his hair, the rancid coconut oil...I requested to sit elsewhere, and upon query, remarked that,

"He very smelly.".

My father beat me to shit for that. Retrospectively, I think it was harsh. I wasn't being racist. Really. Fuck, at that age, you don't even KNOW how to be racist. Merely making an accurate observation and wishing to alleviate myself of the situation, I was whipped. To shit.

But it comes to the stage now, when, amongst all the friends of various different races, we can swap racist jokes, and laugh heartily. I laugh the hardest at the Chinese ones, really, and I fail to see how this is dangerous and promoting of social discord, no matter how subtle. The Straits Times went as far as to interview two groups of people; one that shared my point of view with regard to the racist jokes, and one that did not tell them, ever, because it was disrespectful. Call me an anarchist, but I'm of the opinion that group 2 walks around with carrots up their asses.

The true racists, the ones that simply bear an unreasonable dislike, or even hatred, of other races simply because they're coloured differently, I despise. There is no basis for that, and these people should be shaven bald and put out naked in the cold. The racists, I mean. Now, I'm not sure which whether Chua Cheng Zhan is of the "skin crawl" persuasion or the kind that asks people how many Indians it takes to screw in a lightbulb, but the fact remains that when push came to shove, and his comments were hauled up to merciless scrutiny, he went...sort of flaccid.

His defense, as far as I can recall, went along the lines of "I don't know what came across me when I wrote those. I'm not racist. I don't use my own persona when I write on my blog. I'm sorry."

Had he used only the last sentence, it would have been a mitigating factor. Yes, you fucked up. 'Fess up, apologize. Don't deny the blatant truth. We're all critical of people different from us to some degree. Don't go all I plead temporary insanity on us. His father denounces this, stating that Cheng Zhan went on volunteer work in...some third world country or other, I forget, and haughtily told us to form our own opinions. Yes, yes, sir, your son very good ah, make you proud ah, scholar and volunteer all wah seh. I have more respect, though in equal measure of disdain, for the "skin crawl" guy. His shaving is pending, but at least he had the balls to say it. Cheng Zhan, whether you're racist or not, one thing is for certain: You're a pussy.

Ok, ok, to avoid libel suits by the rich and powerful father, fine, wussy. There's your PC, I hope you choke. Interesting, the hidden sides of all these educated people. -sniffs-

eH, I tend to go on. Let me end this with finally bringing in the relation the SAF plays in this entry. You see, another one of the poignant factoids dragged reluctantly into the limelight by the press was that, in one of the forum-writer's Basic Military Training, his sergeant told him he never let two Indians sit next to each other because joy fills their heart at the proximity to their own kind and they proceed to talk throughout whatever activity they were originally supposed to do, telling each other about their dreams, family, ambitions and brands of coconut oil they use. Ok, maybe not in those words, but the gist is true: That the sergeant forbade Indians to sit together because he perceived they indefinitely would end up chattering. I've actually witnessed it, though, and I'm sure some of us have too: That Indians do tend to congregate and talk. Hey, nothing wrong with it.

And you know what the grossest piece of blatant racism I've witnessed, right in front of me, was? A Compant Sergeant Major, telling off two Indian sergeants having a conversation in Tamil in front of him. He says something the lines of:

"Are you scolding my mother? No? How do I know? How many times do I have to tell you, when you are together with other people, SPEAK ENGLISH so everyone can understand! Is that clear!?"

The same fuckheads think nothing. Nothing at all. Of speaking in Mandarin non-stop to his fellow senior officers and specialists around Indian specialists, who just happen to be of lower rank. And no, this didn't happen just one time in my two and a half years, and stick vivdly in my mind. It happened often enough over the two and a half, to stick vividly in my mind.

Hmmm. No wonder they shave all the new recruits bald and put them in the cold. A just-in-case, I guess.

Up yours, mates. Stick to defending the nation, and ease off the blatant abuse of rank and racism, eh? It makes my skin crawl.