Confessions of a racist

I have a confession to make.

I am a racist.

Are you shocked? You shouldn’t be.

You see, I view this world through a technicolour lens. That is, I see the colour in everything, and by colour, I mean race.

Let me count the ways in which I am racist:

1. Looks like an Indian, speaks like an Indian

I get mistaken for various ethnicities all the time. There was one time some friends in college were convinced I was Chindian, until I had to break their hearts and tell them, apologetically, that despite being awesome, I did not have any Chinese blood in me. I don’t know where these people are today, so I am assuming they did not take the news too well.

Some mistake me for a Anak Mami, but this is only by other Penang Anak Mamis themselves. Nama pun Yasmin. But they are not all that far off. I do have Tamil and Punjabi in me, and I am India-mari, just like many of the traders who made Penang their home.

2. Princess of the Land

I love Malaysia so much that despite being as Malaysian as Malaysians come, I acknowledge my inferiority and recognise the Bumiputeras, or the Princes of the Land. I am pretty certain princesses are also included in that much-coveted special class. We can’t be racists and sexists, right?

3. Nasi lemak rules!

Nasi lemak is the food of champions, and we would have been deprived of this divine dish were it not for the Malays. I am very certain my late grandparents on my Indian (nationality, not race) side never got to taste even a spoonful of this Malaysia’s gift to the world.

4. Char koay teow makes the world go around!

Trigger warning for those who only do halal: the following contains unrestraint waxing of something you deem offensive.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, the Penang char koay teow – the Chinese’s gift to the world!

Can you imagine anything more intoxicating than the lard-coated, lap cheong-garnished rice noodles that put Penang on the map way before LGE’s many winning initiatives? Non-halal and super porky is the only way to do CKT, and I thank the heavens for not creating me vegetarian or allergic to pork.

5. Himpunan Yennada

The Chinese have the yellow T-shirts and a cleaning campaign, while the Malays have their red T-shirts, Ketuanan Melayu and Himpunan Maruah Melayu (Rakyat Bersatu) and we Indians have MIC? How is that fair? If our rallies are to be colour-based, then we should have one for us Brownies (Indians, not the junior girl guides group).

And since we would all be clueless, let’s just call it Himpunan Yennada and elect Umapagan Ampikaipakan as the leader. The man is brown, funny, intelligent and adorable, and despite what Bollywood tells you, that combo is not easily found in real life.

6. Banana leaf rice in ma belly

I’m Yindian and Malaysian. We eat rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Need I explain more why this South Indian food makes it into my belly many times a week? Also, what is life without tomato rice, chicken curry, mutton varuval and fried bittergourd?

7. Bhangra of chapatti and palak paneer

It is in my DNA to crave food of my ancestors, and since I am half-Punjabi, the way chapatti and palak paneer dance in my mouth would put even the best bhangra crew in the world to shame.

I could go on and on, but I think I have made my point. From the food I eat to how I identify myself, I tend to apply the race lens. I am not post-racial, nor am I colour-blind. I acknowledge the diversity in our country and will happily partake in aspects of it that are made available to me.

Fret not, I won’t hold your race against you because I am just a racist, not a racial supremacist.

This has been fun. I can now live my life as a racist, as freely and honestly as I want.

Now where did I leave my cup of Japanese green tea … – September 19, 2015.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insider.