This article originally ran in the Huffington Post. Girl Up Teen Advisor YingYing Shang is a regular contributor.
I had my most appalling experience with racism at the DMV, in the attempt to earn my driver's permit.
As an Asian-American, I'm used to the everyday, smaller instances that are more an annoyance than an obstacle, from the strangers thinking that it is acceptable to say "Konichiwa" to me in the library to the businessman on the train asking me where I'm from. "Around here," I answered quizzically. "I know, you don't have an accent, but really," he stressed. "Like in Asia."
Upsetting incidents of racism have been present my entire life. I vividly recall an instance in New York City three or four years ago; my family and I were being regular tourists, walking on the broad streets host to the international community that New York City boasts.
My father pushed the stroller with my little sister, who was still a toddler, chattering at all the new and exciting sights. All of a sudden, an old man passing in the opposite direction shot us a hateful look. "Go back to China where you come from!" he yelled.
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