I was nine years old the first time I ever realized how truly moronic people could be. The epiphany struck at recess on a sunny spring morning when one of my classmates approached and proceeded to make fun of me for being Asian.
I’d known this girl for a few years and was well aware that she was a devastating combination of annoying, unattractive, and dumb. I didn’t quite have a singular term for what I wanted to call her back then, but in retrospect the word “bitch” would have probably sufficed. So as I stood there watching this bitch use her hands to pull back her eyes and elicit “ching-chang-chong” sounds, I contemplated the utter stupidity of this occurrence to which I was paying witness.