Wang Lee Hom (王力宏) is a complete tool. He described his album as “chinked-out,” which he defines as:
The term “chinked-out” comes from “chink,” which was used to put down Chinese people. “Chinked-out” turns the negative meaning of “chink” upside-down, and uses it as material to form a musical style.
Chinese pop music does not have a strong enough feature. Instead of imitating other countries’ popular songs, we can focus on developing our own sound, drawing from the rich resources that abound in Chinese culture. This is how the conception of “chinked-out” music came out.
In my younger days, I harbored dreams of being a writer. In elementary school I was greatly influenced by Louis Sachar’s monumental work “Sideways Stories from Wayside School.” When I was in third grade I built somewhat of a name for myself as the resident racounteur of Woodrow Wilson Elementary, and by the fourth grade I had kids from all three classes signing up to act in my opus, a play I was writing that had something to do with kids barfing at summer camp. Sadly enough, aside from the angry letter I wrote to that stripper at the Gold Club in San Francisco that got me the first of many restraining orders, this play constituted the apex of my writing career. Today, reaching the heights of Louis Sachar has never seemed like such a distant apparition.
Why do I bring this up now? Because during these halcyon years, when I was at the top of my game, I constantly referred to myself and other Chinese characters as “chinks,” not really understanding the undertones behind the word, only believing that they contained a kind of entertainment value that I couldn’t really duplicate with anything else. And thus, during one of my many short-story readings to the class, came about one of those memories from childhood that is seared into one’s brain forever, and still makes one cringe when their thoughts pass through in that direction, even so many years after the fact. After one too many “chinks” in the story I was reading aloud, Mrs. Halter suddenly shouted out: “Ok, stop! I’ve had enough! Can someone please tell Eric that the term ‘chink’ is racist and should never be used, especially by him!” She then proceeded to look at the other Asian kids in the class. “Brian! Jenny! Will you please tell Eric to stop using that term?”
At the time I don’t remember how I felt exactly at that moment, but afterwards I began experiencing an increasing sense of shame and embarrassment, even though I hadn’t intended to do anything wrong. I was one of the good students in class, always doing well and winning points with the teacher, and here she was, calling me out in front of the whole class with genuine frustration.
And to this day, I thank her for that, not merely for the simple fact of pointing out my ignorance, but for introducing me to the concept of being offensive. And racism, as well. I don’t want to get all Asian-American 101 on your asses, but there usually is a moment when a kid like me realizes that there is a fundamental difference between him and the other kids. It’s an important recognition to have, because it allows one to develop a sense of pride instead of shame at their identity.
And it makes them understand that they should never use the term “chink” unless they wish to grow up to be a completely clueless scumbucket who tosses around an offensive term with such a racial backstory to it in the name of commercially whoring himself under the guise of some “power” movement that, if successful, will only makes thousands of kids brainwashed into forgetting the history behind the term to begin with. And this, folks, is evidence that Wang Lee Hom is only perfect in the sense that he is a perfect waste of space on our billboards and on TV. I’d much rather buy my instant noodles from Mr. Bean.
