"What's the most racist thing that's ever happened to you?"

Needless to say, as soon as I read the article title on The Independent's website homepage, I knew I was opening up a can of worms.

It's not that the question isn't loaded. I'm fully aware that racism still exists, and for as long as man shall live alongside one another with differences, it always will. As a British-born Chinese female born in the north east and brought up in the north west, such a question will always hold significance.

It's just that when I scrolled down to the sixth interview, and I read Dr Lynette Goddard's account of her most racist encounter, that I felt it was an issue I finally had to address through writing.

"I used to work as a stage manager with a touring theatre company called Black Mime Theatre Women's Troop. In 1992 we were touring a show about women and alcoholism to a youth centre in Carlisle. On this night I was understudying for one of the actresses. About halfway through the show, a young lad ran toward the stage spraying a fire extinguisher and shouting: "Get off, you black bastards." This was the first time I had experienced such explicit racism and I remember it to this day, especially when I go back to Carlisle."

For those of you who have not met me, Carlisle is my hometown. I would like to say that I was surprised to hear that Carlisle made it on the Racism Map of Shame, but in truth, of course, I'm not. I'd also like to say that I grew up in a lovely, innocent environment, feeling like I "fitted in" my whole life and I never noticed the colour of my skin, but I would be lying.

The truth of it is, that the colour of my skin has never mattered to my friends, family, or even friends of friends growing up in Carlisle, but every so often, I would experience something in my hometown which would jerk me back to reality from my "everyone is born equal" haze and realise that this issue will always be a part of me, and that there will always be those in the world who are uncomfortable with it.


I finished reading the article and immediately a handful of events, vivid as the colours of rainbow sprang back into my mind. I didn't even need to ask myself the question purposefully; my brain was already singling out incidents from my overall-happy childhood to chide me into writing this post.

There was the time I was in the playground of my primary school and a boy a few years older than me was teasing me about my name, chanting "Cindy, where's Barbie?" incessantly. Like any five year old, I found it irksome, and told him to "Shut up," after five minutes of trying to play with a skipping rope. The boy stopped mid-chant, narrowed his eyes at me, and replied in a measured, almost mature tone, "What do you know, Chinky?"

This was the first time I had ever heard the word, and while I did not understand its full venom when used in such a circumstance, I remember how it made me feel to this day. That was the first of many incidents I've experienced, but one of the few I experienced actually in school. Other incidents always occurred when I had friends around, when we were socialising, when I least expected it; usually just incomprehensive teenage jibes which I am able to write off after initial shock as ignorance, but on more than enough occasions, I've also had on nights out with girlfriends:

 "Oi, Ting Tong, I have a video with someone who looks like you in it at home, do you want to come and watch it with me?"

And even when I know it shouldn't, those are the ones I find most hurtful and shocking, because when a drunken middle-aged man leers at you in such a way, you know that in his heart he truly believes you are inferior to him. I always took these comments more personally than other racist comments because it also referenced my gender - yet I was the one being verbally attacked, not one of my girlfriends.

The article in The Independent is right to address issues of race, but when discrimination isn't only about the colour of your skin but also about your gender, the topic gets so much more complicated. It says a lot about the person who is insulting you, but inwardly I know it makes me uncomfortable because it reminds me of my differences; differences which my friends and family have never made me feel but parts of society will always be around to reproach me for.

It is easy for me to remind myself that the racism I have faced, especially in Carlisle, is due to a lack of education. It's one of those things your friends tell you, that your mother tells you, that your cousins who have faced the same situations, tell you. There are however, those who say they are not racist, who genuinely do not believe that they are racist, and stand by that assertion even after making sweeping comments about all Chinese people being hard gamblers, or that "your lot" are "coming in the droves to this country aren't you?".

My concerns in light of today's ruling at the Old Bailey on the 1993 case of Stephen Lawrence's murder  do pale in comparison, and I'm glad that justice was served today. It is not for me to judge whether the verdict is right or wrong, but I can say that the media coverage, the support Lawrence's family have publicly received, and everyone's interest in the case proves that racism is, and forever will be, an issue worth talking about, and always an issue worth educating people on.

In response to the question then, Mr Paul McKenzie, I have found that there are too many to count and put into words, but it's not the words that I hear which strike a chord - it's the underlying meaning of the message, which each racist comment carries, that I will never be able to get used to, no matter how many times it happens.