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“I don’t understand how you actually have a round butt and big boobs. I mean, you’re Asian for crying out loud!”
When the President of the Board of Directors of a start-up, non-profit, public health NGO calls the office line, I answer.
Him:: Can we expect to see you at tonight’s event?
Him:: I’m sure you’re going to get dressed up very nicely.
Before the conversation ends, he asks me to relabel 50 business cards, because he forgot to grab some before boarding the train. I not only *dressed up very nicely* for the event, but was the only staff member to work the event-in below-freezing temperatures to boot.
Here’s to being the only 20-something year old female in the work place.
As I'm recovering from anesthesia, I heard the following conversation with a nurse and the patient next to me::
Nurse:: Your anesthesiologist will be here soon. His name is Dr. Duang.
Patient:: Huh? Duang?
Nurse:: Yes, he's a very go-
Patient, sounding very offended:: Does he speak any English?!
I felt a lot of things. Slight guilt that I had been unable to speak up, sadness for the incredibly wonderful anesthesiologist (who had helped with my surgery) having to deal with a clearly racist patient, and disgust at the assumption that a man with an East Asian last name would not speak English.
“All of the ‘independent women’ I knew eventually settled down and got married. Your instinct will kick in soon.”