Originally posted on Lufira:
Yes, I am afraid of black people. I could be more technical and uses the term “African-American” or “American-Africa” but since everyone is so use to the term ‘black’ that there is no different in calling people from Africa ‘black’ anymore. Race is social reconstruct; it is what we learn that define it. Race is not real but as long as people believe it does, it has the capability and power to change the world. I didn’t come in contact with black people until I came to the US when I was nine. I had never heard of or seen one in real life before. I was born in Vietnam and where I lived was far away from tourist destination. I have seemed white people there before but as for black, never. So when I saw a black person in real life, I was scared. It is a human instinct to be scared of the unknown. I have never talked to one and with my poor English skill at the time, it was even more difficult. When I first lived in the US, the place where my family resided had a high population of black people. There were a mix of black people that are first generation coming straight from Africa and then there were also people that are fifth or more generation with African ancestor. So there was African and African-American. Although my family had plenty of opportunities to talk to black people in this new community, we never once tried. My parents don’t even let us go outside that much. The fear of black people started to grew inside of me.
My first bad experience with black people was when I was in third grade. My sister, Towel, and I were walking home from school with just one block before reaching our apartment we was stopped by a black little girl. She started pushing Towel and me around. We didn’t know what to do so we let her bully us. That was our first time being bully. We were both scared and didn’t know what to do. I could see my apartment from where I was standing yet fear got a hold of me and I couldn’t even run. After the girl was done torturing us, we walked home crying. We didn’t tell our parents of course because they would just advices us to ignore the girl. So knowing this, my sister and I just ignored the problem. The girl started to pick on us even more because we didn’t resisted or fight back. One day, someone finally saw what was going on and told her to stop. If it wasn’t for this person, I think I would still be bully by her till middle school. After this incident I kept my distant from black people even more.
After moving to our first house, all sorted of things started to happen. The house my parents bought was in a location that has the most crime rate in the city that we lived in. Luckily though, there was a higher population of Asian so my parents felt more comfortable. The right house next to us was another Vietnamese family, which was comforting, but the house to the left belong to a black family that sell drug. As you can see, my family could never be neighborly with them. Immediately after moving into the house my parents built a wooden fence. Building the fence was costly and time consuming but no matter what the obstacle was my parents was dead serious on it. Since we didn’t have money, we set up the fence ourselves with the helped of another person, Mr. O. Even with the fence up, it didn’t kept conflict from rising between my family and their.