The Pilates Class from Casual Racism HELL

Pilates class... so unassuming. Little did I know what was to come.

There are some of us out there who understand what it’s like to be the subject in a racist situation. But this experience that I endured one summer- attending ongoing sessions of racism that I was paying to be in- was something new and fresh for a racism vet like myself. 

I had signed up for this exact Pilates reformers class for multiple summers in the past when I was home from school. Every class took place in the same seemingly innocent room, tucked away in a far corner of a gym, situated in an upper class suburban neighborhood. In this room held eight Pilates reformers machines- the L-shaped machines that were equipped with springs and loops and sliding carriages.

Pilates class quite possibly might be the safest, most unassuming space anyone can imagine. This particular class was a time for relaxation, and healing of the mind and body. Instead, class after class, hour after hour, certain words and exchanges dripping in casual racism made me increasingly anxious to the fact that I needed to defend myself, my culture, and my whole race! It was a lot to take on.

That summer, I had class with four other people- three older women and one middle-aged gentleman, all non-Asian folks. For a twenty-something Asian American woman like myself, I already felt a tad out of place. Just a tad. At the same time, I was having a pleasant time listening to the four speak passionately about the news, their vacation plans, their grandchildren. It was nothing I could complain about.

The first of the warning signs came when conversations started about the Olympics. First, I must address the one true perpetrator of the racism I experienced in this Pilates class- the middle-aged man, Bill. The London Olympics were in full swing, fueling Bill’s onslaught of casually racist opinions that would only amplify class after class. 

In speaking about the number of medals given per country, Bill mentioned, “You’d think with the billions and billions of people in India, they would get at least one medal”.

He also went on to gripe about his annoyance with Usain Bolt, the Jamaican runner and Olympic medalist, calling him a “jackass”, loud and clear, just because Bolt was (very much deservedly) dancing and celebrating his wins to the camera.

As I repeated my planks and leg circles, alarm bells started to sound off in my head. I knew that speaking like this, without any sense of restraint or apology, reeked of racism and most of all, ignorance. It’s the kind of racism that someone perpetrating it does not even know they are being racist- it’s just normal thought and speech to them. And that kind of mindset is terrifying. In hearing his comments about “jackass” Bolt’s dancing, I became even more disturbed to know that Bill was taking his family to a safari in Africa that summer. 

 

Fast forward a few weeks later, and Bill was back from his summer vacation with his family. On his way to Africa, he and his family made a few days stop in Hong Kong. Now, the four folks in my Pilates class knew my family roots and ethnicity originated in Hong Kong, as I had spoken to that fact many times. The class had once even asked me for a restaurant recommendation-

Class: What’s one of your favorite places for dinner?

Me: Like, anywhere? Or… Chinese food?

Class: Chinese food.

Tangent aside, Bill had visited Hong Kong. He knew my family was from Hong Kong. This did not stop him from letting us all know his opinions on the city, the food, and even Chinatown.

Bill began to regale us with his vacation story with a little prologue about how much he hated San Francisco’s Chinatown. Bill told us that he was initially apprehensive to travel to Hong Kong because the Chinatown in San Francisco is disgusting- he did not hold back by explaining that it is “dirty”, it “smelled”, and that he and his family avoided going to Chinatown at all costs. 

To his surprise, he found Hong Kong to be clean and more pleasant than any Chinatown he’s seen. Why, he told us, there’s even McDonald’s and Subways! Actually, Subways were everywhere! That is when another classmate helpfully chimed in,

“Oh no! Did they have poodle meat?”

And then the entire class, sans myself, engaged in a chorus of laughter. Poodle meat, folks, poodle meat. Not only was this an unprompted, racist, and just bad Asians-eat-dog-meat joke that was made frivolously in a public forum, it was made with full knowledge that a Chinese girl was standing and listening just ten feet away. This behavior, this baffling ignorance, just about blew my mind.

It seems like Bill and his family might have eaten at McDonalds or Subway more times in Hong Kong than anywhere else because well, he just hated the food! Bill questioned me if Hong Kong had good food, and I truthfully answered yes. Unfortunately for him, everything Bill had tasted in Hong Kong was “bad food”. 

Throughout these classes, and every racist incident involving my own culture, I remained silent. I told myself over and over that this place, this class that I pay money for, was not the place to make a scene. Yes, Bill’s and the class’ behavior was unacceptable, inappropriate and rude. And yes, I absolutely believe in fighting back and have made quite a scene in my day. But it’s important to take into consideration time, place, situation, and participants. Me, cussing out older patrons of this gym, in this tiny room we shared a few times a week, was just not a good look.

Regardless, I grew increasingly angry at Bill and the class. Even more so, I became concerned that I would have to be subjected to more racist remarks conversed so casually as if it were normal and acceptable. My silence towards his behavior started to wane.

A week or so later, Bill was speaking about the businesses and restaurants moving into his affluent neighborhood. He quickly turned the subject onto Chinese restaurants, and therefore, obviously, had to address his question to me.

“Stephanie, why don’t you think Chinese restaurants have been moving in? Do you think it’s because they don’t want to pay the rent?”

I was taken aback. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as my heart pounded with intensity. Never before have I heard something so laced with ignorance and racism asked straight to my face with such sincerity. And that was the thing- Bill was really asking that question with sincerity! Deep in his heart, without any belief that he was being racist or offensive, he implored to his young Chinese classmate why all Chinese people were so. damn. cheap.

Not only was he lumping every Chinese business together, he was lumping each and every Chinese person together, including myself! Apparently every Chinese person ever only had one mind, one agenda.

Bill had the audacity to ask me that question as if I stood on the pedestal representing each single Chinese person on this planet. And for him, I probably did. That’s probably why my classmates asked for my Chinese restaurant recommendations, why they would ask me what “dim sum” meant in English. To them, I was nothing more than that.

I was pumping with adrenaline and fury at Bill’s question. To that, I replied, with my most convincing veil of calm,

“Maybe it’s because the city won’t let them move in.”

Bill, blankly and dismissively, said, “No, that’s not it”.

I wanted to be subversive. I wanted with all my might to imply that maybe, perhaps, the city was just like him, and that they thought the Chinese were “dirty” and “smelly” and cheap, and that they didn’t want the Chinese businesses to taint their quaint little neighborhood.

I wanted Bill to feel the wrath of my anger, built up over weeks and weeks spent listening to him spew his racism all over the Pilates room floor. My Pilates class had transformed into the boiling depths of casual racism hell and I wanted Bill to burn in the flames. Instead, it felt like I was the one burnt up, my racism levels absolutely exhausted.

I thankfully never lost it at Bill or the other classmates for the rest of the summer. Their words, however, have stuck with me verbatim and flash in my mind from time to time. Their words stand as reminders to me of the rampant forms of casual racism- how absolutely terrible it can become and how it can occur in even the most innocent of circumstances.