Weird fears: microagression/racism

I hear it all the time. The word I don't fully understand, and I don't think I ever truly will. Even as a part of certain minority and discriminated groups, I still don't understand.

Microagression

What is it, really? Sometimes when people scream "Microagression" it seems to me as someone bridging their own ignorance through asking questions instead of making assumptions, or living in a world of tongue biting curiosity. It's not aggression, but a true acknowledgement of their own ignorance.

What makes me question this: three things.

The man who raped me was Asian. (actually he was half Korean, half white, but his features were defiantly Asian.) Ever since him, I have had flashbacks whenever I imagine becoming intimate with an Asian. Even seeing a half naked Asain man is enough to pull a knot into my stomach and tears from my eyes. It's disheartening. It makes me disgusted with myself. I judge people based on their appearance, based on their race, based on something beyond their control. It makes me feel guilty. I have many friends who are Asian, some of whom I could see me having a meaningful relationship with. I just couldn't get beyond my own issues, and honestly, I don't even want to try reopening old wounds. 

I'm bi. And even Asian women will set me off. There was one Asian girl I had a big crush on. I just knew I couldn't be with her because of this guttural reaction. Another one of my guy friends who is half Asian had a crush on me. I knew it. I admired him, but I just couldn't get past the feelings inside.

Is that microagression? is that overt racism? I don't know. I just know it's not going to go away without a lot of time, effort, and tears.

I love afros, kinky-curls, cornrows, weaves, and all aspects of Black hair care. I think it is the most cool and unique thing on the planet. I wish I had the ability to grow an afro, or just crop it short and leave that beautiful black silhouette against my skin. Even better, I would grow dreadlocks without being seen as a dirty hippy. I have so many questions about black hair care. I just was not raised in a culture where black haircare was mentioned. (Exept in Orchestra where I learned from my black classmates and teacher that a Pocahontas weave takes two packs of hair) I keep my mouth shut even when I have burning questions. I want to learn how to do such beautiful braids. But I keep my hands to myself. I don't want to offend anyone with my obsession. (Black skincare, tattoos, and sun care are also things that burn inside me)

I love cultural clothes. Saris, Kimonos, Hanbaks, African tribal patterns. Oh my gosh, I love it all! I wish I could be half as beautiful as my Pakistani friend who wears her Saris so often. The looks like a fucking princess! The bright colors and flowing fabrics make my mouth water. Seeing a woman in a kimono, loving how the obi both matches and is set apart by the fabric of the yukata, wondering how they walk in such strange shoes, and wishing for that experience makes my heart ache. Have you seen a proud black woman with her geometric patterned dress and her hair piled high on her head wrapped in a scarf that is so unique and beautiful. Whenever I see a hijjab on the street I want to stare so badly. It's so beautiful. And it's not just limited to people of color either. The Mennonite ladies in my community always wear the most beautiful dresses. Knowing that they are handmade, and seeing the most subtle beautiful patterns as well as the different style of head coverings makes me ache with desire. But I hold back. Because I don't want to insult the people whose culture it represents.

Yeah. That's what I got. I'm just a pathetic little white girl who wants to question, and immerse myself in a culture without insulting anyone. I don't know if it's considered microagressions or racism, or what, but I'm just putting my fears out there as a method of coming to terms with them. As a method of self discovery.

I don't know, but all this thinking has exhausted me.