Furthermore, there are only a few tens of thousands of 华裔 in England, so if someone wants to see some ID before I get fireworks, a big plastic bottle of White Lightning, or the license to fly a light aircraft, then fair enough - after all, we all look same.
Judging from what complete strangers have yelled at me in the street back home, who's to say I don't resemble Jackie Chan ("Oi! Jackie Chan!") (aged 53), Bruce Lee ("WOOOOOO! WAHHH!") (aged 66, deceased), an individual of Japanese descent ("Oi! Konnichiwa!") (median age 41) or one of many sellers of £5 DVDs that congregate in Harrow ("FIVE POUND DVD! FIVE POUND DVD!") (various ages)?
So it's been by turns worrying, flattering, and surprising to have been mistaken as significantly younger than my two dozen years, no less than three times since arriving in Harbin - a city, after all, with it's fair share of other Chinese people.
Most recently, I had the following conversation with a kid in Taekwondo class:"What year are you in?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What year of high school are you in? I'm in High 2"
I run the calculations.
"You were born in 1989?"
A big smile. "Oh no no, 1990..."
Imagine: enjoying cartoons non-ironically, being untouched by Girl Power, and never watching Thundercats.
I don't know what bothers me more. Getting befriended by children or casual 'comedy' racism.
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