I started a food blog, and a white friend went to a Chinese restaurant with me. When we ordered, the server eyed him, saying, “You sure? It’s spicy.” For once the white guy was the one treated like a foreigner! When I blogged about it, I referred to him as “white friend,” and it stuck. “White friend” and I ate more Chinese. I created the hashtag #whitefriend and gave him the nickname WF. I was one of the only Asian people where I grew up. Now I was the one with a name — he was the one known by his race. I listed my blog on my resume and rethought “white friend.” Referring to someone by their race isn’t funny, even if it’s ironic. We moved on to burgers, fry bread, and garlic fries. Now he’s Erik – and there’s more to him than questioning his tolerance for spicy food.
[150 words]
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