Hello, Mrs. Butterworth.

I really wanted to ask the dude the first time we met -- "What are you?" My guesses were Greek, Lebanese, Hispanic? But, I held my tongue. 

It's weird since I've always felt so off when people ask me-- "Where are you from?" Philadelphia, mostly, I would respond. Questioning eyes were the usual response. Then, they would rephrase-- "No, like where are you really from?" I would get so confused and I guess they could read it on my face and quickly add-- "Like, where are your family members or ancestors from?" 

Oh. I see. 

To mess with them, I would say North Korea, but it's not a lie since my parents both were North Korean refugees during the Korean War. Then, their faces would twist in an uncomfortable way, unsure of what to ask next. Just a few weeks ago, a random guy at a grocery store followed me around, asking very loudly, "Chinese national? No wait, Japanese?" I really wanted to respond in a horribly crude way, but instead, politely smiled and replied, "Korean". Which is a lie. I was born and raised in the US. I stick out like a sore thumb in Korea. I'm not pale enough. Have too many imperfections on my face and not enough plastic surgery. My body fat isn't -2% either. But, I guess, when you aren't around people from different backgrounds, you get curious so I kind of understand. He wasn't being malicious at all... In fact, he was incredibly genuine. 

By the way, the dude is a WASP. I know this because I've seen the family tree and my last name is now Butterworth.

Hello, Mrs. Butterworth.

 

Richmond, VA