When “apologies”are weaponized

Image Description: photo of bookstore with close up of standing book page edges in foreground and blurred bookshelves in background

Recently, I went to a children’s bookstore to buy books for one of my friends who had just given birth. Her baby is six weeks old and still has that fresh newborn smell. The books would be for the baby’s future, of course, and I was so excited to be an auntie in the life of a member of the next generation of abolitionists.

My friend (and her baby) are Japanese Americans. I browsed around in the store for a while and then asked a staff member for recommendations on picture books by Japanese American authors and/or with Japanese American characters. The staff member, a very enthusiastic white woman, excitedly got out from behind the counter to show me some options.

She pulled out a few books about Japanese cultural celebrations and Japanese foods. They were all cute books, if a little heavy-handed in trying to be Japanese American. Then she showed me another book about a Japanese American boy playing at home, in the park, going to the grocery store, and questioning the boundary between what is fun and what is boring. It was charming, mundane, and also deeply philosophical. It was about universal human emotions grounded in specific contexts. It was about a child going about the day who just happened to be Japanese. I loved the book.

The white woman said, half apologetically, “it’s not really specifically about Japanese culture…” And I responded, “That’s fine. It’s what I am looking for, thank you!” I wanted to say: it’s what I am looking for because I am looking for portrayals of Japanese American kids being kids, not just Japanese American kids being Japanese American. We need, in the words of Viet Thanh Nguyen, “narrative plenitude” where there is an entire ecosystem of books, TV shows, movies telling deeply human stories of Asian Americans.

But alas, I didn’t want to expend the time and energy. So I saved my speech.

Then, a second staff member, let’s call her white woman #2, came over, and trying to be helpful, said “here is another book you might be interested in,” showing me a book whose title began with My Lola and I. I don’t remember the rest.

Upon seeing the title, my brain does what it has practice doing, firing off a thousand thoughts in one second: lola is what my Filipino friends call their grandmothers; that’s not a Japanese book; but wait, what is the Japanese word for grandma; I don’t even know it; oh-uh, maybe it is also lola; no way, I think I would’ve known that; but what if I am wrong; I could be wrong and this person works at the store after all; I should check the book before saying anything.

My brain does what it has practice doing: giving white people the benefit of the doubt while questioning my knowledge.

After the one second of silence while my brain did its thing, white woman #1 said hesitantly “umm…I am not sure that this book is Japanese.” Feeling backed up by white woman #1, I said “yea, I believe lola is what Filipinos call their grandmothers.” I was careful to modulate my tone, to not accuse her, to share knowledge as an offering.

In response to that, white woman #2 immediately said “oh I'm SORR-EEY” in that tone, in that voice. White woman #2 weaponized her “apology,” and in the space following her words, I heard the words she did not say out loud: how am I supposed to know these ASIAN things? How are you not grateful I am helping you? How are you not grateful there are Asians things for you at all? You all look the same anyway.”

White woman #1 rushed in to comfort white woman #2, not even considering the possibility that I was feeling discomfort, and said in a super cheerful voice, “That’s ok! Don’t worry about it!” White woman #2 faked a smile and went to a different section of the store.

In their exchange, I did not exist.

I wanted to say: it’s actually not ok. It is not ok to say “I am sorry” in that tone. It is not ok to weaponized your “apology.” It is not ok to behave in this way when you learn that you are wrong about something. It is not ok to center your white fragility. Is there a book in this store that teaches kids about what to do when they learn that they are wrong? Is there a book that teaches kids how to apologize? White woman #2, you should read these books.

But alas, I didn’t want to expend the time and energy. So I saved my speech.

I channeled my anger through my hands, by carefully wrapping the books I got for my friend. I used a cute hedgehog wrapping paper and tied up everything with a pretty bow on top.