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Written by Joyce ( @reine-regnante on here), Dictionary for Colonizers is a fictional piece that follows the tragic and tumultuous relationship a chinese woman has with whiteness in all its forms.
TAGS/WARNINGS: racism, fetishism, rape/assault
porcelain
/pôrs(ə)lən/
Noun
How you will choose to describe my skin
My mother did not raise me to avoid white skin like yours. She raised me to be forgiving, and gentle, and to smile when people spoke to me, so when you handed me a glass that swirled under the flashing lights, I smiled. I listened to your hormone induced confessions of how you loved Asian girls, and loved Chinese take-out, and loved chopsticks, and loved my porcelain skin. My skin was so much richer than yours, creamy and glassy at the same time. Truthfully, I thought you looked sick, your skin was only glassy. But my mother did not raise me to avoid white skin like yours, so I smiled and drank your drink and danced closer with your hands on my hips, like a person spinning a mannequin.
Savior
/sāvyər/
Noun
My white knight on top a white horse kissing tragic yellow skin
My father did not raise me to exist loudly. I was told I needed you to protect me. Milky skin was the thickest armor that science provided and strength depended on the purity of gold that grew as straw on top your head. You liked to mark yellow bodies with lipless embraces that coated collarbones with bruises and spit. Being smothered by white skin was the closest I could be to having that armor, to having that defense. Yellow skin was marked by its impurity. It was sour milk. Stained napkins. Old satin. Flaking parchment for you to paint on with your teeth.
joke
jōk/
Noun
My race, and your sneer
I took you to my favorite haunt in Chinatown. Favourite because of the lack of lipless lip adorned faces, and abundance of noodle slurping laughter. The shop I roamed had satin hats with sewn in braids displayed on high shelves and you pointed and laughed and pulled your eyes tight and when I frowned, you pulled me so close that I could smell your cigarette breath and see poison in your irises when you assured me that it was just a joke and a reason to laugh my noodle slurping laugh.
Pawn
/pôn/
Noun
An arm piece, climbing accessory
Your white friends thought my cream glass skin was pretty as well. I clung to your arm as they scored up and down my body with their scorching white eyes and went up in flames in utter shame when they asked if the curtains match the drapes, and tried to pry myself from your holding cage when you laughed your mayonaise laugh, your fingers grazing along my spine to push me forward to another group of scorching white eyes.
Exotic
/iɡˈzädik/
adjective
A backhanded compliment
You told me love was your middle name and I believed you. I told you my middle name and you called it exotic. It was a wildfire. It was the dust that fell from stars. It was a monsoon, and a lilypad pond. It could have been many things but the word exotic rolled off your tongue the way my name did when we spent the darkening hours together, your hand curled around the back of my thigh, comparing glass to cream and I wondered if I had a name or if I was merely mangled fruit that you chose to feed from.
Unique
/yo͞oˈnēk/
Adjective
Your brand, and everyone else’s
You liked to tell me that you weren’t like those white people. The one’s who championed political wastelands and ignored the cries of colored souls, no, you were a champion for people like me. You denounced bigotry and only tried to convince me to love you once. Maybe twice. You denounced bigotry and only tried to convince me to love you. More than two times. How many people had you seen saying the words Me and Too, and yet you tried to convince me to love you. I said no. You said you weren’t like other white people with Asian fetishes, you just really loved the culture. And really loved me. And my yellow skin.
Colony
/ˈkälənē/
Noun
Your child in my stomach
I told you I didn’t want children right now. Bloodless veins have made my face as white as your teething grin, gripping my arms so tightly that I’m forced to memorize what it feels like when blood knew how to run. You want to name your baby. I want to name the doctor that will free me.
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