During sophomore year during my third period, my friend and I were casually talking about driving when our white, male peer, sitting in front of us, suddenly turns around in his chair and snickers, “Wow. You guys are at a double disadvantage.” Confused, I looked at him.
“Double disadvantage for what?”
“Well, you’re both Asian and women.”
Taken aback, my friend and I looked at each other. Then, looked back at him.
My friend spoke up, “That’s racist you know.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s true. Everyone knows they can’t drive,” he said, turning back around to face the front, removing himself from the conversation as quickly as he had butted in.
That 30-second conversation from two years ago has haunted me throughout high school as I started my rocky journey on learning how to drive.
The first time I sat behind the wheel of a car was during Driver’s Ed when I had the instructor next to me and another student in the backseat. Even though we were starting off slow at 10 mph in the school parking lot, it was a disaster. My nerves took over; my shoulders and hands gripped the wheel so tightly that I would feel incredibly tense and would have a difficult time relaxing.
As I winced when the car slowly went up on the curb, the stereotype that Asians can’t drive crept into my consciousness. Oh no, I panicked, I’m just reinforcing that idea about Asian drivers, especially when the white kid in the back was noticeably better at driving than me.
The three days of Driver’s Ed came to an end, but my conflicted relationship with driving stayed. Not only did I have the usual fears (me running into things, 18-wheelers running into me), but I was also paranoid that I was contributing to the stereotype whenever I made a mistake.
As my friends got their licenses and cars, I found myself coming up with excuses to avoid driving. I mulled over these thoughts for months but then decided this irrational struggle wasn’t worth my time anymore. Bad driving isn’t limited to Asians. It doesn’t really matter how other people perceive my ethnicity, but rather what I do despite them. So I started driving more frequently and focused on myself, instead of what others think of me.
I’m sure if I confronted the boy about his thoughts now, he would have no recollection of it — or he would dismiss it as a joke. Even though I will never forget his words, I refuse to let them hold me back anymore.
