This translation has been automatically generated and has not been verified for accuracy.First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines atEven before the coronavirus, wearing a mask in public was encouraged in East Asian culture, but as an Asian born and raised in Canada, this practice felt unnatural to me at first.
Stares and glances from non-mask wearers came with a mix of fear, disgust and resentment – a bitter and potent exclusionary cocktail. This was before we stopped going to work in the office, before the virus had spread outside China and before North Americans began reconsidering the effectiveness of mask-wearing in public.
The deep irony is that this is the exact opposite experience of what it was like growing up as an Asian-Canadian. The “real” Asians, the ones rooted in the cultures where mask wearing was second nature, were finally accepting me as one of their own. Meanwhile, I felt rejected by the culture that I often felt more connected to, from the country that prided itself on welcoming immigrants. I have always been a visible minority, but it took wearing a mask to finally make me feel like one.
I once envisioned a day when it would be safe enough to ride public transit with larger groups of people. Together, we would all wear masks in the same confined space; people of all cultures, no longer divided by belief or by background, but united instead by the same fear of germs that our neighbours might be carrying. Today I know it will take more than guidelines and bylaws to realize this modest vision of unity.
I'll take a mask over a respirator anytime.
This is from the same type of people who berate the white people of Toronto telling them they are the minority and making them feel it too.
More race clickbaity bullshit from the globe
Grow up. 🤯
Wtf are you talking about? Toronto is majority non-white, so how are you a “visible minority”?